


Sensory Perception

by SurlyCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Art, Artist Castiel, Blow Jobs, Contractor Dean, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant Castiel, F/M, Fluff, Gentle dom!Cas, M/M, Marking, Mutual Masturbation, Painting, Rimming, Rutting, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sub Dean, Voyeurism, ugh these two dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 57,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurlyCat/pseuds/SurlyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragged to an art gallery opening by Sam and Sarah, Dean expects to spend the evening smiling and nodding politely. What he doesn't expect is find an interest in art, or in the featured artist. Despite their awkward introduction, Dean and Castiel both take a chance and discover that they might just have a lot they can learn from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snarkymonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey/gifts).



> On a whim, I decided to take tumblr prompts, so here I go. This is the result of a prompt for 'art show', from the lovely dek-says-so. Many thanks for your support, encouragement, and kindness, friend. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> 8Tracks list [here](http://8tracks.com/surlycat/sensory-perception), if you're interested.

Dean shivered as an unexpected burst of chilly air assaulted him from the vent above his head, smelling of fresh lumber and that general amalgam of metal and adhesives. The goosebumps racing up the back of his neck made his scalp prickle and he absently reached up to scratch his head, only to curse himself. Great. Now he was going to have a weird-looking tuft of hair sticking up in the back where he’d unsettled his hair gel. Stupid stubborn cowlick. He made a brief attempt at smoothing it down and gave up when he caught Sam’s smirk from the corner of his eye. Apparently, it was hilarious that Dean could be concerned about his hair just one time in his life.

“Stop scowling, Dean. Your hair looks fine,” Sam murmured next to him.

“I’m not scowling.” Dean’s arms crossed over his chest, seemingly of their own volition, before he could stop them.

“Fine, stop pouting. You’re a guest of honor, and looking all pissed-off isn’t going to attract more contracts,” Sam said reasonably. “I know the chances of that are pretty slim tonight, but word of mouth is everything.”

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed before stretching his mouth as wide as it could go  into a grin. “There, charming enough for you?” He was fully aware that he probably looked fairly maniacal, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to ruffle his younger brother.

Sam knit his eyebrows. “You’re such a jerk. Just…try to look normal, okay? Approachable, even, if you can manage it. You know, more Hiddleston, less Nicholson, maybe?”

“Bitch please, I’m the king of approachable,” Dean smirked. At Sam’s unconvinced look, Dean sighed and put on a more genuine smile. “Look, I’m trying, okay Sammy? Now go find your girlfriend before she realizes she’s out of your league. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sam bestowed Dean with one last look of vague disapproval before weaving his way back through the crowd to find Sarah, who was laughing lightly with a few other strangers at someone’s anecdote. A soft grin settled itself on Dean’s face as he watched Sam’s eyes light up, as Sarah pulled him close and looped her arm in his. Like the big doofus really couldn’t believe that he’d managed to snag the clever little brunette that was clearly enamored with him.

Swirling the scotch in his tumbler absently, Dean leaned back against the wall and took in the room, scanning it more out of habit than anything. Even Dean knew better than to flirt when there was potential to secure more work. The crowd at the gallery opening wasn’t his thing, anyway, most of them being pretentious wall-street types and their socialite wives. There were also plenty of middle-aged divorcees hoping to be seen and spend their exes’ money, and the occasional art student from the local college, most likely attending with the promise of extra credit. The place practically reeked of money, and Dean began to wonder if he’d charged Sarah’s father enough for the work he’d done. The idea of being viewed as cheap labor after putting so much work and care into the renovation of the historic building put a bitter taste in his mouth. He was already in a weird mood anyway, edgy with the post-project buzz of displaced energy; after months of stressing day and night over permits, supplies, blueprints, deadlines, and manual labor, Dean’s brain hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that it was over and that he could relax.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Sarah’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back into the moment and he glanced up to see her frowning in concern.

Dean put on a reassuring smile and genuinely tried to will the grumpy thoughts out of his head. This was supposed to be her night, after all. It may not have been manual labor, but Sarah had put just as effort into getting the gallery open as anyone else.

 “Yeah, I’m fine, just been a long few months, is all. Feels like I’m still supposed to be working in here or something. Looks like you’ve got a good turnout, though,” he said as he glanced around the room.

Sarah beamed and looked around as well, catching Sam’s eye across the way as she did so. “Well, it wouldn’t be possible without your help, so thank you. You really did do a fantastic job, Dean.” Her smile turned wistful as Sam came over to join them and pulled her into his side. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” she murmured, the double meaning not being lost on Dean.

Yeah, it was almost gross watching the two of them, they were so smitten with each other. All the same, seeing Sam happy made Dean happy, so his smile came easily when he caught his younger brother blushing like a 13 year old girl at Sarah’s remark.

Sarah checked the delicate watch at her wrist. “Well, if you can make it another hour, I’d like you to meet the artist, and then I swear you’re free to go home and put on those ratty shorts,” Sarah teased at Dean.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with those shorts! They’re just broken in,” Dean scoffed.

“Dude, they’re like ten years old and have a rip in the ass!” Sam ribbed.

“Consider it insurance to make sure that you don’t come in my house without knocking. Unless you _want_ an eyeful, that is.” He couldn’t help but plaster a grin at the way Sam screwed up his face as if he’d stepped in dog shit. Dean shrugged and took the last swig of his scotch. Almost immediately, a sharply dressed waiter in a waistcoat appeared to take his glass and hustled off just as unobtrusively as he’d come. Well, then.

“Well, if you’re going to be here for another hour, why don’t you take a look around at the pieces, instead of brooding in the corner by yourself all night. That way, when you meet Castiel, you might actually have something to talk about,” Sarah offered with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” he muttered as he pushed off of the wall. Dean knew it wasn’t her fault that he was in a crappy mood that day and decided to heed her advice.

For two months, Sara had been raving about this guy, her excitement to get his work up only growing as the opening drew closer. She also hadn’t failed to marvel more than once that this Castiel was still single, despite his good looks, talent, and friendly demeanor. All marveling done, of course, with pointed looks sent Dean’s way. It’s not that he was opposed to the idea of meeting someone; he just didn’t care for people trying to play matchmaker with him. The whole awkward blind date, even if part of a double, was just not his thing. Plus, as ridiculous as he knew it was, when he heard the word ‘artist’ combined with the unusual name, the first image that popped into his head was something akin to a much less attractive version of David Tennant’s character at the beginning of Fright Night, with double the doucheyness. Or maybe Hansel from Zoolander. Not that Sarah had ever described Castiel’s looks or implied anything douchey about the guy, but Dean’s imagination had been plenty eager to supply an image nonetheless. Meeting Castiel was, at that point, merely a social obligation for Dean.

Most of the paintings hanging up had small clusters of people gathered around them, no doubt discussing techniques and analyzing the works in terms that Dean could never begin to fake his way through knowing. Glancing around, he spotted a smaller piece that wasn’t garnering any attention and made his way over, hoping to get an undisturbed look. Although he’d mostly intended on simply giving the piece a perfunctory look and moving on, something about it caught his eye. It definitely wasn’t pretty. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It wasn’t even a discernable image, so much as broad, thick sweeps of dark colors, all warring with each other for dominance on the canvas. Dean couldn’t help but feel a sort of distress and sadness and chaos at the sight of it; even more so when he noted the thin light blue line that barely appeared toward the  bottom, as if it were being trampled by the thick lines of paint above it. Suppressing a shudder, Dean decided to move along, uncomfortable with the strong reaction that some bits of color had elicited.

The next painting down was nothing like the last, and if anything, seemed to lift the heavy feeling away. Although still not an image of a specific object or scene, it felt like a concrete, living, breathing thing. The broad sweeps were still there, but they were more curved and the paint was thinly layered, almost gently, in colors that spoke of light and joy. He imagined soft laughter from it. There were intricate little lines and dots scattered and woven throughout it all that for some reason, made Dean think of dandelion fluff floating on the breeze on a clear late spring day. It occurred to Dean at this point that he was actually enjoying looking at art and he looked around self-consciously, as if expecting someone to come up and quiz him about it at any moment. Seeing that his secret was still safe, he continued on, casually strolling from one piece to the next, each containing vastly different color schemes. Dean wondered briefly if he was doing it wrong, because he wasn’t finding a meaning of any sort behind the paintings, as he thought he should. Because that’s what you’re supposed to do with art, right? Go on some kind of existential Easter egg hunt to find the meaning? All Dean got from these were just emotion, raw and vulnerable. Almost like the feelings you get with memories, if they were given a tangible form.

Oh. Well damn. This is new.

Grasping art for the first time right then was an experience. It reminded Dean of that moment when you finally solve a riddle that you’re not really actively thinking about and the answer just kind of smacks you in the face. Or perhaps this is how House always felt when the tinkling music would start up at the 45-minute mark in the episode. Not that Dean felt like he could go on an art dissection spree or anything, but it was exciting all the same, to understand something new.

And holy shit! This guy must have balls of steel, to have the nerve to put something so personal out there for everyone to see. Dean wondered for the very first time, what it must be like, to create something so intimate and then set it out there for someone else to buy and claim as their property. Looking around the room, he was struck with a moment of revulsion, that these vultures would circle around what was essentially a piece of a human being with the hopes of taking it home to decorate their condo and make themselves look more interesting. They’d probably just pick one based on whether it would match the palette of their living room, with no real thought to the piece itself. This Castiel dude should totally just take his paintings home and shoo everyone away, because no one should be allowed to see something so precious as one’s innermost-

Wait, what?

Dean suddenly became acutely aware of the tension in his shoulders and frown that had crept up on his face. He didn’t realize until this moment that he’d reached forward and was running light fingertips over a particular line of paint that was distinctly thicker than the bit surrounding it. This is also about the time that he felt eyes on him and yanked his hand away, fairly sure he wasn’t supposed to touch the art. He desperately wanted to not be observed having a strong reaction to goddamn paint on fucking fabric. He’d always assumed that people were full of shit when they claimed to have an emotional reaction to art (that they didn’t create themselves), trying to make themselves seem more intellectual, and had stated as such many times. Sure, it made perfect sense that one could find an academic interest in viewing art and deciphering its meaning, but to feel something was totally different. God, it must be a full moon, or his weird mood getting to him. Dean Winchester does NOT get emotional over freaking art. What Dean Winchester does do, however, is put up a hell of a front.

With conscious effort, Dean took a breath, relaxed his shoulders, and allowed his face to settle into something more neutral before turning to find the eyes that he could feel boring into the side of his head. Much to his relief, it’s just another waiter on his way over with a glass of presumably scotch in hand. Apparently, someone must have made it a point- most likely Sarah- to inform the waitstaff that Dean would appreciate liquor, rather than the champagne that everyone else seemed to be downing. Making a mental note to thank Sarah for the personal touch later, Dean put on a polite smile as the guy approached. The smile turned more natural as Dean took in the fact that the waiter was almost obscenely hot, all sex-mussed hair and stubble, the waistcoat and dress pants more fitted and a higher quality than the other staff, though still black with a white shirt. However, this dude had a royal blue tie instead of the standard dark red that the others had. So...maybe the boss?

The man came to a stop at arm’s length, and Dean immediately took the glass, knocking back half of the drink in one large, undignified gulp. A mixture of surprise and amusement fell across the man’s face at Dean’s enthusiasm.

Letting out a deep fumy breath through his mouth, Dean noticed that the waiter wasn’t scurrying away like the last one had, and started to wonder if the guy was waiting for a tip or something. Shit, was he supposed to be tipping all along? And fuck if he knew the etiquette on tipping at an event like this. The guy was still staring at him, and okay, wow. Talk about the mother of all unnerving gazes.

“Uh, thanks, man,” Dean muttered nervously. The man squinted and corners of his lips curled minutely and he tilted his head.

“You’re welcome?” the man asked, as if amused. Or at least, something hinting at amusement shone in his eyes, which might have been the most ridiculous shade of blue that Dean had ever seen. He thought about his friend Charlie, laughing at something on her computer a few nights before, about ‘the bluest blue to ever blue’. Yeah, that sounded about right.

Why wasn’t the guy walking away? What was with the awkward staring contest? Oh yeah, the tip thing. Maybe asking the guy to get him something else would put the problem on hold until he could ask Sam what he was supposed to do. And speak of the devil! Dean caught sight of Sam and Sarah making their way over and sighed his relief when they were about five feet away, and turned back to the guy.

“So, you got any more of those little quiches back there?” Dean asked with a nod of his head toward the back of the room, where the waitstaff seemed to keep coming from. “I’d love you forever if you could round something pronounceable up for me,” he added with a grin and a wink.

Dean’s attention was drawn to Sarah, who barely stifled her laughter next to him. Sam looked mortified, as if Dean had belched the middle of a funeral. Leave it to Samantha to get all bent out of shape over a little harmless flirting. Please, like this was new behavior for Dean. Besides, waitstaff was fair game, right? Rolling his eyes, he turned and not only was the guy still standing there, but he was positively smirking now, if not blushing a bit.

“As tempting as your eternal love sounds, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go poking around in the service area,” the man rumbled. Somehow, it seemed like the only thing grounding the deep voice from being incongruous with the rest of the man was the layer of very manly stubble.

“Dean,” Sam said tiredly, grabbing his brother’s attention. “This is Castiel.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, as if it would somehow put out the fire that was currently threatening to break out over his face and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, Castiel was looking off to the side shyly, as if feeling second-hand embarrassment for Dean. Excellent. And never mind the fact that Castiel had definitely witnessed Dean fondling his painting and having his moment. Dean prayed to any deity that would listen that the giant hook would appear and pull him off stage.

The hook stubbornly refused to manifest.

Time to man up, then.

“Er, sorry about that. I thought with the outfit…” Dean gestured at the waistcoat and trailed off with a sigh as he realized that he was digging himself even deeper by possibly insulting Castiel’s get up. “You know what? Never mind,” he said as he held up a hand. “Do over?”

Castiel chuckled. “Okay, do over.”

Dean stuck his hand out and summoned a charming grin. “Hi. Dean Winchester, nice to meet you.”

“Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you too,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Castiel’s grip was firm, but Dean couldn’t get over how soft the hand was, in contrast to the strength he could feel in it.  He also couldn’t help but notice the way Castiel subtly trailed his fingertips in a feather-light touch across Dean’s palm as their hands pulled apart.

The tension abruptly turned to something different in that moment, and Dean absently lifted his glass to take a fortifying swig of scotch. Castiel’s eyes tracked the movement and Dean noticed that the amused look had come back as he swallowed. Fuck.

Dean scrubbed his unoccupied hand over his face and then looked down as he held the glass that contained a single sip out to Castiel. “I assume this was yours?” Dean muttered.

Castiel chuckled and took the last sip, as if it were perfectly normal to drink after a complete stranger, and shrugged. Dean realized then, that Castiel had probably already drank some of it before Dean so rudely swiped it and felt an odd satisfaction at having shared the glass with the man. The moment was shattered though, when Sam’s voice pierced through with a nearly comical shrillness.

“Dude! You stole his drink out of his hand?!” Sam’s bitchface was truly a sight to behold at that moment. It was clearly the look of ‘this is why we can’t have nice things, Dean’ and ‘oh my god, you’re embarrassing me in front of my girlfriend, you shit!’. Sarah’s eyes had gone wide in surprise, but she seemed perfectly content to stay quiet and just watch.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize!” Dean then turned to Castiel. “I really am. Let me go get you another one. Be right back.”

Striding away, Dean hoped that his steps looked like he was simply determined to right his wrong, and not like the escape he was desperately trying to make. Feeling a little paranoid now, Dean made it a point to seek out a female staff member, as he was more certain of their official apparel for the night. Procuring the drink didn’t take as long as he hoped, so he only had a few moments to gather himself and try to shake off the residual embarrassment. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made an ass of himself, after all. At least Castiel seemed amicable, rather than offended by the ordeal.  Sam though…Sam was never going to let him live this down.

As he got closer to where he’d left the other three, Dean noticed that none of them were still there. Not that he could blame any of them for taking the opportunity to ditch him, but it still stung a little. Then he noticed Castiel, two paintings down from where he’d been before, looking beyond uncomfortable as a woman at least twice his age was leaning far too close with one hand on his shoulder, nearly sloshing her champagne down his front. Castiel happened to catch his eye and may as well have had S.O.S. stamped across his forehead for the look in his eyes. He subtly leaned away from the woman, who merely followed the movement, leaning in even closer. Clearly, Castiel was far too polite to simply walk off, so Dean took that as his cue to play the role of distraction and help the dude out.

The moment Dean was within arm’s reach, Castiel pulled him into his side with a grateful smile and planted a possessive-looking kiss to Dean’s jaw, next to his ear.

“Thanks for the refill, baby. You are always so good to me,” Castiel rattled off with a plea in his eyes.

That…was unexpected. Dean was certain he deserved an Oscar for how well he pretended to not be startled by the 180 change in the man’s demeanor. He was far from complaining though, especially as his skin tingled where Castiel’s lips had pressed, and a strong hand still gripped at his waist as if he thought Dean would run away. “Anything for you, sweetheart,” Dean smirked, handing the glass to Castiel.

“Aw, how darlin’,” the woman deadpanned. She didn’t seem to notice the champagne that splashed over her hand as she sarcastically raised it to a toasting position. “Good work, kid. Congrats,” she said with what was somehow a combined stink eye and wink. Or maybe she was a twitchy drunk. Then she listed slightly to the right before turning and walking off. Dean felt a chuckle bubble up as he noticed the slip hanging below the hemline of the woman’s dress, and the trail of loud perfume that smelled like every female substitute teacher he could remember having.

Once she was out of earshot, Castiel let out a deep breath and dropped his hand. “Thank you, Dean. Sorry about the uh,” he pointed at Dean’s face with a crooked grin, not exactly sounding all that sorry.

“No you’re not,” Dean blurted.

Castiel tried to look aghast, but as if unable to believe even his own bullshit, he broke into a soft laugh. “Okay, I’m not,” he said as he swirled at his glass. “It got me away from that woman, after all,” he said with a shrug.

So maybe Castiel would’ve done that with any of his friends, then. Lucky them…dude smelled amazing, like honey and vanilla and mint, with something earthy and masculine. Almost like…

“Have you been drinking tea?” Dean really and truly wanted to slap himself as soon as the words left his mouth.

Brows arching high, Castiel’s eyes widened before flickering down as he ran a hand over his tie. “I may have spilled some Sleepy Time on my tie before I came down here,” he grinned shyly.

And what can you say to that? So Dean just nodded and grunted his acknowledgement before slipping his hands into his pockets and rocking awkwardly on his heels. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to himself, that he couldn’t even manage to hold a regular conversation. It’s not like Castiel didn’t seem interesting, and he was gorgeous and talented to boot, but Dean’s game was just so…off. Fortunately, the majority of the crowd had left, so it was looking like as good a time as any to make his exit and save what small amount of dignity he had left. As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, Castiel was looking everywhere but Dean, rubbing his neck nervously, confirming that it was definitely time to go. Just as Dean was about to make his farewell, Castiel spoke again.

“You wanna go eat something pronounceable?”

Dean’s eyes snapped up to meet the wide, uncertain blue gaze of Castiel. An invitation to extend their conversation was the last thing Dean had expected.

“Uh, yeah. That sounds great! But I do have a question.” Dean took Castiel’s head tilt as permission to go on. “Why?” He thought he made a fairly good effort at not sounding defensive.

Castiel sighed and his lips quirked up slightly. “Because we’re both hungry, the party’s mostly over, and I think you’re interesting.”

Dean huffed and shook his head. “I’m really not, Cas. I mean, I am hungry, but I’m not all that interesting. Just a dude.”

With a cocked eyebrow and a shrug, Cas swallowed down the last of his drink and set it down on a decorative table nearby. It was actually an antique that Dean and Sarah had restored together, and while he knew it could more than handle an empty glass, he chuckled to think of how appalled Sarah would be to see it being used functionally. That small act of irreverence, whether purposeful or not, made Dean start to relax in Cas’ presence.

“Okay, we’ll go. You wanna ride with me?”

“Yes, if that’s alright. I rode with Sarah tonight,” Castiel said with a pleased grin.

Dean didn’t even bother questioning that Cas was ditching his own party, mostly because he probably would have too, if it were his. When they reached the car, Castiel huffed a small laugh before reaching for the handle.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just…it suits you,” Cas grinned to himself.

“Damn straight it does. This is my baby. I’ve worked on every single inch of her,” Dean said with a light rap to the roof.

Castiel quirked an eyebrow and Dean shut his mouth with a click, realizing how that had sounded. All the same, Dean was feeling better now, more like himself now that he was in his comfort zone. Maybe the night could be salvaged, after all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to the diner a couple blocks down was quiet, but this time it wasn’t so uncomfortable. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Cas was humming along in his soft baritone to “The Stroke” as it played on the radio, as if it were something he’d heard a million times. Dean mentally awarded Cas extra points for at least being tolerable, if not possibly knowledgeable of classic rock.

The diner itself was one of the mangier dives in the area, but Dean happened to like it; it had character. The moment they walked in, all eyes fell on them. The pen that had been hanging from the corner of the waitress’ mouth at the counter fell out and clattered on the countertop, breaking the spell, and everyone turned back to their meals. The waitress couldn’t have been more than 17, and scrambled to grab her pen and seat the two men, blushing profusely as she made eye contact with Castiel and all but tossed the menus on the table.

“I think the waitress has a crush on you, dude,” Dean grinned as she walked away.

“Perhaps, but she’s not the only one watching us,” Cas frowned as he glanced around the small restaurant, taking in the furtive glances of at least four other patrons.

“Relax, Cas. They’re just not used to seeing anything spiffier than a brand new ball cap come through the doors. Probably just wondering what the hell we’re doing here.”

Dean figured he may as well get comfortable, and shed his jacket before reaching up to loosen his tie. As an afterthought, he popped the top two buttons of his shirt and took a relieved breath. He knew he looked good that night, and there was something very gratifying about the little intake of breath that Cas tried to hide. Yes, Dean had actually put in the effort for once and had worn a well-tailored dark gray suit with a black button-down, black suspenders, and a deep purple tie. Not a fan of messing with dry cleaning, he decided it would be prudent to roll the sleeves up to the elbow to avoid any ketchup mishaps.

Castiel was staring. He was aware that he was staring. Try as he may though, he couldn’t seem to look away when Dean rolled up his cuffs to reveal two beautiful tattooed forearms. They weren’t quite sleeves, but it wouldn’t take much more art to make them so. The overall look was even more stunning now that Dean had relaxed it, and the brighter lights in the diner allowed Castiel to get a much better look at Dean than he’d been afforded at the gallery. Sarah had told him that Dean was a ‘handsome bastard’, but somehow Castiel was left feeling like he’d been undersold. Then the handsome bastard smirked, and Castiel was certain that he’d made the right decision to get Dean away from the alien environment of the art show. Now he would have the opportunity to talk to the real Dean Winchester, the one that Sarah was so fond of.

“See something you like, Cas?” Dean drawled.

“Yes,” he responded truthfully. Not like he could deny that he’d been ogling the man at this point.

Dean’s eyes widened for a second before he hid his smile in a cough. “Well then, don’t beat around the bush or anything.”

“I’m sorry, is that what you thought _you_ were doing?” Cas quirked a slim brow at him.

The waitress chose that moment to take their orders, this time taking in an eyeful of Dean and stuttering adorably when he winked at her after she finished jotting down his order.

“You’re a horrible person, Winchester.”

“What?” Dean asked defensively.

“That poor girl is going to remember the night that she got visibly flustered at the guys in suits for the rest of her life, and you’re just egging it on,” Cas said with a fond shake of his head.

Dean shrugged and loosened his tie a bit further. “Oh, like you weren’t batting your lashes at her with your big eyes and your little smirk, there.”

“Not intentionally. This is just my face,” Cas said seriously.

“I know, right!” Dean chuckled.

Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes. This Dean was a far cry from the awkward mess he’d met before, and it was fascinating, watching the transition. From what little he’d seen so far, Castiel knew Dean’s type; cocky, flirty, a force to be reckoned with if he were on the prowl. This is exactly the type that Castiel normally wouldn’t give the time of day, much less sit down to a meal with. He knew better though, than to trust the front that Dean seemed to have crafted over years of experience. Sarah had a sharp eye for reading people and chose her associates carefully. If Dean were truly the shallow, sex-on-legs figure he was portraying, Sarah wouldn’t possess so much fondness when she speaks of him.

“So tell me something about yourself, Cas. All I know is that you’re 30, an artist, and intellectually superior.”

The self-deprecation in Dean’s wording rolled off his tongue with an ease that gave Castiel pause. Why not just say ‘smart’? A troubling observation, but one more piece of information to be filed away.

Their food arrived at this, and both men mercifully gave the girl only polite thanks and smirked at each other when she looked slightly disappointed. Cas took a nearly vicious bite of his burger that simultaneously startled and endeared Dean. There was something he found confusingly attractive about watching a man in a suit devour a burger with zero delicacy. Once the bite was swallowed, Castiel proceeded to tell Dean about his years spent traveling after high school, his multitude of siblings, and his last minute decision to drop out of medical school two years ago. Since then he’s become a certified yoga instructor and teaches classes during the week as his day job. Castiel watched as the gears turned in Dean’s head with this information, but the man didn’t prod about Castiel’s reasons for the dramatic career change. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

They seem to both have reached a silent understanding that they weren’t going to discuss Castiel’s art or Dean’s renovation. No, this was a time to learn about the other parts of each other. Plus, Dean was in absolutely no hurry to go anywhere near the territory of what Castiel had witnessed because that was just a little too intimate for both of them, for the time being.

So Dean also shared about his own life; taking care of Sam after their parents died when Dean was 20, saving to get his contractor’s license, and his enjoyment of dystopian literature and sci-fi. He didn’t share that he’d dropped out of the engineering program with a 3.7 in order to use his college fund to support Sam or that he tends to drink too much when he’s alone. And Castiel also doesn’t share that his parents found some quack that was willing to administer shock therapy to ‘cure the gay’ for the right price, when he was in high school. He still has nightmares sometimes, of deep blue eyes and a gray pantsuit that looked disturbingly out of place in the sterile white of the procedure room. We all have our secrets, though.

The conversation proved stimulating for both men, but there was still an undeniable underlying tension that was not helped by the borderline pornographic noises that Dean made around his pie, or the way that Castiel kept fiddling those graceful fingers around the top button on his waistcoat. Over the course their meal, Castiel had taken great care to observe everything about the man in front of him, from his body language, to the various things that would make his eyes light up or his tone go softer. He’d always found humanity fascinating, and Dean Winchester was no exception. Castiel also discovered that Dean was unusually sensitive to even the simplest of touches, and wondered if Dean really lacked positive touch so much that he’d unconsciously chase it once it was removed.

This is about the time that Castiel got an idea that made his blood feel warmer the more he thought about it; Castiel wanted to seduce Dean. Not because it would be necessary to in order sleep with the man, but because Castiel was fairly sure that it was something that Dean had never experienced. This was something he could give Dean, to show this man that pleasure is not always the same as indulgence; he had a feeling that Dean was completely aloof to the concept. Besides, Castiel was certainly more attracted to Dean than he had been to anyone else in a very long time, so he would benefit from this as well. He hoped that this thought process didn’t make him predatory or pitying, because he felt neither. Plus, the sex wouldn’t be nearly as good if Dean were only partially present, in a manner of speaking. Neither man seemed to notice that they’d lapsed into silence and were simply staring at each other until the mousy little waitress cleared her throat awkwardly from beside their table.

Dean’s head snapped up, startling the poor girl with the sudden movement, but Castiel only grinned and continued to bore into Dean with his eyes, completely aware of how it affected the man. It was satisfying, watching the blush rise on Dean's cheeks, and knowing that he was responsible for putting it there. Knowing that such a beautiful man, who was clearly` worldly, could even be brought to blushing by merely a look.

The waitress darted her eyes between the two of them and actually smirked, before laying the check on the table. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said, before going back to her perch at the counter.

Castiel arched a brow in question, so Dean grabbed his wallet out and threw down more than enough to cover their bill and reached for his jacket.

“Let’s roll,” Dean said with a nod.

“As you wish.”

Dean paused in his movement. “Did you just?” Dean trailed off.

One side of Castiel’s mouth quirked up slightly in confirmation that yes, yes he did. Dean couldn’t help the giggle that came out and tried desperately to cover it with a cough and turn it into something manlier. Castiel pursed his lips in an effort not to laugh, but failed when a soft laugh slipped out. Dean gave up and sighed.

“Well whatever. I am _not_ Buttercup,” Dean pointed mock-threateningly.

Castiel looked utterly unimpressed and shrugged. “As you wish,” he repeated with a twinkle in his eye.

“You’re a little shit, aren’t you?” Dean asked flatly, as he stood.

Castiel rose as well and slid up next to Dean with a mischievous look, so close that their chests were nearly touching, frustratingly close. Castiel tilted his head slightly forward, to murmur in Dean’s ear, “Among other things,” before pulling back and striding casually toward the door.

After a pause, Dean heard a quiet huff of laughter off to his right and looked over to see the waitress, who wasn’t even bothering to hide her amusement.

“What?” Dean barked.

“He is so gonna own your ass,” she smirked.

Dean gaped at the girl’s brazen comment, but she cut him off before he could retort. “Well go on! What are you doing standing here talking to me? Prince Cheekbones is already outside, dude.”

Oh, right. Damned distracting snarky teenager. And with that, Dean turned abruptly and walked out of the diner.

As Dean approached the car, he saw that Castiel was leaning against the passenger door with his ankles crossed, leisurely and calm. The streetlight behind the car made it difficult to make out Cas’ features, but Dean was certain that there was a smugness in the set of his shoulders. Castiel didn’t make him feel like a piece of meat, though. True, this may only last one night, but it didn’t feel like either one of them had the upper hand; it felt balanced. For all of Cas’ innuendo, Dean knew for a fact that the other man liked what he saw, considering how blunt he’d been about it.

Castiel didn’t move when Dean approached the passenger side to unlock his door. Huffing, Dean smacked at the other man’s arm. “You gonna scoot your ass over so I can unlock your door?”

“I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman,” Castiel chuckled as he obliged. The moment the door was unlocked, Castiel slid in and reached across to unlock Dean’s door before he could get in.

The act, although small, was thoughtful in a way that Dean wasn’t used to being treated to and it warmed him, to have someone return the favor. Sliding in to the car, Dean couldn’t help the soft grin that played on his lips. “Where to?”

“I live on Riverside, if you don’t mind to take me home.”

“No problem, that’s just a couple blocks away,” Dean shrugged.

Five minutes later and pulling into the parking area of Cas’ building, it was obvious by its near emptiness that most of the residents were still out for the night. The moment the car was put into park, Cas gave a tiny grin and wordlessly got out, as if he just knew that Dean would follow him. Come to think of it though, Dean had pretty much been following him all night in one way or another, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Cas would reach that conclusion.

True to expectation, Dean got out and caught up to Castiel in only a couple of strides. They didn’t talk as they walked to the building, or even up the flight of stairs to the second floor. It was just enough time for Dean’s nerves to heighten in anticipation, until Castiel took his hand, once they exited the stairwell that led to the hallway lined with doors on each side. Not typically one for hand-holding and other such intimate touches, it caught Dean off guard. He knew that it was probably not a good thing that he considered hand-holding to be more intimate than sex with a stranger, but shrugged the thought off quickly. Cas’ hand felt good in his own, after all, what with all the soft skin and dry warmth radiating from his palm. It was comforting how well their hands fit together, even if it did cause mental discomfort at having such girly thoughts.

Castiel stopped at the very last door on the right and paused, but didn’t seem to be looking for his keys. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over the back Dean’s hand and tilted his head in thought. After several seconds, Castiel seemed to make a decision and fished his keys out of his pocket.

“I’m not going to sleep with you tonight, but I would like you to come inside with me,” Castiel said quietly.

Dean first thought was, ‘well then why do you want me to come in?’, and immediately he felt like an asshole for it. But then Castiel had used the word ‘tonight’, so this wasn’t necessarily a rejection. However, it did sound suspiciously like the man was already considering a second date, and Dean wasn’t sure what to do with that. He was shitty at dating and damned well knew it, and Castiel didn’t seem like a prude, so…shit. Dean wasn’t sure what was going on and his curiosity won out over the nagging voice in the back of his head that said he shouldn’t bother.

“Uh…okay. Sure,” Dean muttered nervously.

Castiel gave him a soft smile and unlocked the door. “I’m going to make a cup of tea. I’m afraid all I have at the moment is that and ginger ale, so what can I get you?”

“Ginger ale’s fine.”

With a nod, Castiel kicked off his shoes and headed off toward the kitchen area. Dean followed suit, shucking his jacket and tossing it on a barstool at the island. Taking a moment to look at his surroundings, he came to a few conclusions. For one, Castiel was messy. Not in a disgusting way that had trash, but in a way that suggested distraction; a book lying open on the couch, a trail of paint-stained clothes leading to the bathroom, an untouched mug of tea with the tea bag still floating in it perched atop the TV stand. For another, the man appeared to enjoy luxury, making the few items he seemed to own count. Dean observed bedding that looked plush and soft, expensive-looking candles, and journals that appeared to be hand-bound lining the top shelf of a book case. There also seemed to be several old books, most likely first-editions, peppered in amongst more recently printed volumes. For all intents and purposes, Castiel’s home was exactly what Dean expected of an artist. There was even a hideous lamp next to the couch. The fixture featured a large, black ceramic horse for the base and bright red shade with a tiny flower pattern that looked more appropriate to a kimono than a lighting fixture.

“It was a sarcastic housewarming gift from my brother Gabriel,” Castiel said suddenly from Dean’s side. Dean startled at Castiel’s silent appearance, earning a small amused grin. “He wanted me to be appalled at its tackiness, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.” Castiel then chuckled a little to himself as he handed Dean a can of ginger ale. “I even sent him a very sincere sounding thank you card.”

“So you’re stubborn,” Dean grinned. That was unexpected, in light of Castiel’s easygoing demeanor.

Castiel merely lifted a brow and smiled into his cup as he took a sip of tea. And there it was, that same scent that Dean had noticed on the man earlier. Dean’s pulse sped up minutely when he remembered the feeling of the other man’s lips on his jaw. While Castiel seemed perfectly content with silences, Dean was unsure what he was supposed to do or why he was even in the man’s apartment. Popping the top on the can, Dean took an overly large gulp of his drink and regretted it immediately. The carbonation backfired and a belch made its way out before he could stop it, though he did try to stifle its volume a bit. ‘ _Wow, way to charm ‘em, Winchester_ ,’ he cringed to himself.

“Er, sorry, ‘scuse me,” he said.

Castiel snorted and leaned against the counter top. “Mmmm, sexy,” he teased. At Dean’s blush, Castiel slid over and crowded into Dean’s space to stand hip-to-hip, nudging Dean’s shoulder with his own with a small grin. “For what it’s worth, I am aware of the intricacies of the human body, Dean. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Turning his head away, Castiel sat his cup down and then turned his whole body, so that his front was mere inches away from Dean’s side. “For instance,” he continued as he reached a hand behind Dean, placing light fingertips to his lower back, “it’s almost impossible to suppress a shiver when one’s spine is stimulated just so.” A single digit ran lightly up the entire length of Dean’s back, right next to his spine and stopped at the bottom of his collar. As predicted, a shiver racked his body that ended with a tickle in his ear. Dean’s head shook involuntarily, as if he could shake the tickle loose. Castiel chuckled darkly at Dean’s reaction and ran a broad palm soothingly down his flank, eliciting a second, smaller shiver for much different reasons.

And Christ, they hadn’t even kissed, but Dean could already feel an interested twitch in his pants and swallowed thickly. Castiel’s eyes flicked to the bob of Dean’s throat and his tongue darted out unconsciously to wet his lower lip. Dean could feel Cas’ body heat rolling off at such close proximity and wanted nothing more than to close those last couple of inches. They were close, so close, but not nearly enough. However, Cas seemed to be steering this boat, so Dean didn’t dare move as he waited curiously to see what the man would do next.

Fortunately, Castiel seemed willing to make the choice and finally, finally granted Dean the bodily contact that he’d been wanting. In one lithe movement, Castiel positioned himself directly in front of Dean, boxing him into the counter. Dean parted his legs to allow Castiel room to stand between them and a pleased little sigh escaped when Castiel took advantage of the position, to press himself against Dean’s front. Agonizingly slowly, Castiel trailed one broad palm from Dean’s wrist to shoulder and came to rest at the side of his neck, thumb stroking his jaw, while the other found its home on a hip. He regarded Dean curiously, as if he were waiting for Dean to draw away. Seeming satisfied with what he found in Dean’s eyes, Castiel leaned in and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the same spot on Dean’s jaw that he had earlier in the night before mouthing over to nip at the soft skin beneath his ear.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Dean. Is this okay?” Castiel murmured in Dean’s ear. The warm tickle of breath and slight scratch of stubble at his neck made Dean shiver and Castiel pulled back to meet his eye, hands unmoving.

Dean’s tongue felt thick and he swallowed hard in an effort to be able to speak. “Yeah, just…this is uh, this is different.” He knew he should elaborate, but was unsure how to articulate properly that he simply wasn’t used to being the recipient of the gentle touches and slow-burn movements. Giver yes, but never one to receive.

Castiel furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before nodding to himself. “Show me what you’re used to, then,” he said quietly.

This was something Dean knew how to do; to lead the charge and satisfy his partner. However, Castiel didn’t seem to be trying to egg Dean on in anyway, if his tone was to be believed. His face must have shown his skepticism, because Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes with a small grin.

“I’m giving you control of the bridge, unless you’d like me to continue as I was,” Castiel smirked, hoping to lift the tension a bit.

It worked, because Dean snorted at the analogy. A ship was much better than a boat, Dean mused to himself. He knew that Cas was trying to make him comfortable and it made something flutter in his stomach. “You sure you can handle it?” he asked, only half-teasing. After all, Castiel didn’t seem to be shaping out to be the groping and full-on make out type.

With a cocked brow, Cas slid the hand that had been cradling Dean’s jaw into the short hair at his nape and tugged slightly. “I’m a big boy, Dean. Show me your way, and I’ll show you mine,” he said with a wink, voice dipping down deeper than Dean thought was fair.

That was all the push Dean needed, and he snaked his hands around Cas to land on his ass, pulling the smaller man’s hips more firmly to his own and licked a wet stripe up Cas’ throat. Dean hummed quietly and relished the way Cas melted into his touch. “Been wanting to do that all night.” Then he mouthed wet little kisses along that stubbled jaw until he finally found Cas’ lips, and oh, they were much softer than they looked. They felt good against his own, plush, but firm in their movements as they followed Dean’s lead. He let the barest tip of his tongue press at Cas’ bottom lip, asking for entrance, and was immediately met with the light caress of Cas’ tongue, tentatively pressing to his own. Cas tasted sweet, like the honey and tea he’d been drinking, and Dean knew he needed more and deepened the kiss.

Cas hadn’t been kidding when he said he could keep up, and was giving just as good as he got. Dean kneaded at his ass, and Cas felt his pants tighten as the kiss took a decidedly filthier turn. They kissed that way until the need for air became too great and broke apart, Castiel only then realizing that Dean had slipped a thigh between his own and that they’d been rocking languidly against each other. Jesus, Dean was a smooth motherfucker. How could he not have noticed that he was grinding on Dean’s leg? With this thought, Castiel realized that they were still doing it and stopped, squinting at Dean.

Dean let out a breathy chuckle at the look on Cas’ face and the furious blush creeping up his neck. “Get a little carried away there, Cas?” he teased.

After a bit more squinting, Cas reached down and lightly trailed his fingers over the erection straining against Dean’s fly, a purposefully teasing movement, and felt satisfaction at the little hiss that Dean let out. “Not any more than you, Dean,” he smirked. Then he removed his hand and brought it back to Dean’s waist and the briefest look passed between them, but they both knew that it was Cas’ turn again.

Bringing Dean’s hand up to his face, Cas turned it palm-up, locking his eyes on Dean’s as he placed a gentle kiss to the palm. He peppered little kisses along the lines of Dean’s palm, trailing up each finger with the barest hint his tongue flicking at the tips. Dean seemed surprised at his own moan when Cas gently scraped his teeth along the pad of his middle finger, and Cas immediately turned the hand over, to scrape his teeth along Dean’s knuckles. Shuddering at the sensation, Dean let out a shaky breath.

“This is arousing too, is it not?” Cas mumbled against the tendons of Dean’s hand between soft open-mouthed kisses to the skin there.

So maybe Cas had a point. This may not have been frantic humping and dirty-sounding tongue tangling against a countertop, but it definitely had value. Between the touch, the searing look that Cas had pinned on him while working Dean’s hand- his freaking hand!- and hearing him using the word arousing in that damned voice, it was much more stimulating than Dean had been prepared for. His cock was aching now and the cotton of his briefs was starting to chafe the oversensitive skin. And seriously? Since were his hands a thing?

“Christ, Cas,” he breathed.

Something pleased and heated flashed across Cas’ features before he laced their fingers together and leaned in to place a slow kiss to Dean’s lips. It was starting to turn more heated again when the loud strains of “Dude Looks Like a Lady” blared from Dean’s pocket, startling the two men apart.

Cas raised an amused brow at the ringtone and Dean groaned; as much as he loved his brother, Sam had always had the worst timing.

“What do you need Sam,” he answered gruffly. “Sorry, I forgot…what?...dude! I am not discussing…whatever, bitch…yeah, yeah, I know…okay, enough!...night, Sammy.”

Now that the mood was effectively ruined, Dean jabbed his finger at the touch screen a little harder than necessary and shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Though I think that if he interrupts again with nosy questions, we should give him a reason to think twice about not texting first,” Cas said with a mischievous look. “You know, just some rude panting and moaning that he’d wish he’d never heard,” he said with a too-innocent shrug.

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise before he let out a laugh much louder than he intended as he imagined the horrified look that would be on his younger brother’s face. “Shit, Cas. Wouldn’t have taken you for the messin’ with people type.”

“It can be fun on occasion,” Cas offered with a tiny grin.

They stood there for a while just looking at each other, knowing that the night was effectively over, but not quite ready to part ways. Castiel’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Dean’s eyes flicked toward the movement before he made the decision to lean in for one more kiss. This time though, Castiel pulled away before it could go too far and pecked the end of Dean’s nose.

“Pleasure isn’t a cup of water found in the desert, Dean,” he said gently. “It is a well that never dries up.” Castiel ran a thumb across Dean’s bottom lip, hoping that Dean would understand that his words weren’t a rejection.

“Did you just go all Yoda on me about sex?” Dean asked incredulously.

Stepping back into Dean’s space, Castiel ran soothing fingers through Dean’s hair and was surprised when the man still leaned into his touch. “Just…go get some rest, Dean. I happen to know that you were still working on the gallery up until midnight last night and then got up early to help Sarah get the place ready.” After a pause, he added, “But I _have_ enjoyed your company. And now you know where to find me.”

Though Dean’s first reaction was to be concerned about what else Sarah may have been saying about him, he pushed it down quickly in light of the fact that if it were anything bad, Cas wouldn’t have wanted to hang out. His second reaction was more of an involuntary response, as a mighty yawn snuck up on him, as if his body was taking Cas’ side. Traitor.

Cas grinned crookedly at the timing of the yawn and chuckled. Dean rolled his eyes and threw on his jacket. “Yeah yeah, I’m a gettin’.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean paused in Cas’ doorway, feeling like he should ask for the man’s phone number, but it seemed like Cas was perfectly content to simply let Dean know his address. Strange, but not unheard of.  Finally he settled on keeping it simple. “See ya around, Cas.”

And with that he exited the apartment half-hard, slightly confused, and tired. What in the hell just happened? Was there an insult about Dean’s make out abilities somewhere in Cas’ little fortune cookie moment? Is that why he didn’t give his number? But Cas seemed to be interested, if the way he lavished attention to Dean’s hand was any indication. And shit, what would that attention feel like elsewhere on his body? Dean groaned in frustration as another little twitch happened in his pants. At least he lived nearby, because some alone time in the shower was exactly what he needed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in the car was "The Stroke", by Billy Squier.


	3. Chapter 3

“So you hit it off with Castiel, huh?” Sarah asked with totally unnecessary faux-innocence.

Dean sniffed and speared a bite of his sautéed green beans. “Yeah, he’s cool,” he answered vaguely. The green beans were confusingly good. What had started as a polite serving was turning into something that could possibly mean a second helping. Sam and Sarah were both smirking at him.

“What? A man can’t eat a vegetable every once in a while?” he asked through a rude mouthful.

“No, that’s good, Dean. Glad you’re liking them,” Sam grinned, and looked at Sarah conspiratorially.

Dean set the fork down and eyed his plate suspiciously, flashing back to the days of he and Sam’s prank wars. “What’s wrong with them? What did you do, Sammy?” he asked evenly.

Sam held a calm face for all of three seconds and burst out laughing and turned to his girlfriend. “See! I told you! Look at his face!” he said through more laughter.

“Oh God,” Dean blanched, as he reached for his iced tea. Whatever it was, he probably needed to wash his mouth out pronto.

Sam’s laughter died down into a chuckle as he raised his hands to wave them in a placating gesture. “I’m just messing with you, Dean. There’s nothing wrong with them, I swear, look.” Sam took a forkful from Dean’s plate and shoveled it into his own mouth. After he swallowed, he continued. “Sarah didn’t believe me when I told her how bad the prank wars got, so I told her I’d show her the aftereffect. I’m sorry, man.”

Shaking his head in a ‘not cool’ gesture, Dean very calmly picked up his dinner roll as if to take a bite and then chucked it across the table, nailing Sam right between the eyes. Sam squawked, but knew he didn’t have a right to retaliate, so he settled for a look of vague disapproval and irritation before turning back to Sarah.

“So it looks like you owe Castiel fifty bucks,” Sam said smugly.

Sarah sighed, but grinned. “Apparently so.”

“What are you two going on about?” Dean asked, suspicion evident in the furrow of his brows.

Sarah gestured at Dean’s plate. “The green beans are Castiel’s recipe. I told him last week that I was trying to find a vegetable that you’d eat, and he claimed that he had a way to cook green beans that anyone would eat. I didn’t believe it, so we ended up in a friendly wager, and I just lost, if the way you were mowing through them is any indication.”

Son of a bitch. What the hell else has Sarah been saying about him? And never mind the fact that Cas seemed intent on showing Dean ‘his way’, before they’d even met. Dean was also secretly pleased, though, that Cas knew how to cook because Dean was a man that loved to eat, after all. Dean shoved a ridiculously large forkful of the beans into his mouth.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun at my expense,” Dean smiled around a purposely disgusting mouthful.

“Ugh, gross! Point taken,” Sarah grimaced.

Dean politely finished his bite this time before speaking. “And you can tell Cas he’s a cocky son of a bitch for wagering on my taste buds when he hadn’t even met me,” he said with a smirk.

“Or you could tell him yourself when you drop off the bet money,” Sam replied quickly. He oozed satisfaction. “Sarah won’t see him until at least Wednesday, and I only see him if I’m with her,” he shrugged.

Not that he didn’t want to see Cas again, but he was feeling just stubborn enough to argue, after that fake prank shit. “Then I guess he can just wait until Wednesday to collect,” Dean challenged. As predicted, Sam’s eyebrows knit together and he set his fork down.

“Oh for God’s sake, Dean. You said yourself you liked him. Enough that you left with him last night, right? So why not?” Sam huffed.

“Because I don’t need a damned matchmaker, that’s why!” Dean slouched down in his chair like a petulant teenager before he could stop himself.

Sarah sighed in the tense pause of the stare-off between the brothers, drawing Dean’s attention to her. She looked at him all doe-eyed and head tilted. The classic ‘disappointed mother’ face. Great. “Are you really that pig-headed that you’ll avoid seeing him just to irritate me and Sam? You’re like a brother to me, so I say this with love; you’re being a jackass, Dean.”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. The worst part was that he knew she was right.

“And I also happen to know that he’ll be home all day, as he is every Saturday,” she said gently.

Scooting his potatoes around on his plate absently, Dean thought about it for a minute. “Okay, but I was just there last night. That’s gonna look totally creepy if I show up again in less than 24 hours.”

Sam leaned forward in his seat and tapped the table with his index finger. “And that’s why you have the excuse of the bet money,” he grinned proudly, as if he’d just planned a complex heist or something.

Scrubbing a tired hand over his face, Dean sighed. “Neither of you are going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” came the couple’s simultaneous response.

“And why is that, exactly?” Dean quirked an eyebrow.

“Because I think you two would be good together and it would be a damned shame and a waste if you didn’t at least try. And he’s not stuffy, so even if you don’t work out, it’d at least be fun,” Sarah shrugged.

“Sarah! Are you seriously sitting here condoning casual sex during a family dinner?” Dean grinned in surprise. Maybe there was hope for the stick being pulled out of his brother’s ass, after all.

“Oh please. Don’t try to act all scandalized. And these family dinners don’t count, anyway; we aren’t mixed company,” Sarah said with a delicate quirk of her brow. “So, back on topic. Castiel isn’t really…concerned with most social convention, so I highly doubt that it would bother him if you showed up again. Unless you showed your ass, that is.”

Dean put on a smarmy grin and gestured at himself. “Oh he definitely wouldn’t mind me coming back if I had shown this ass.”

Sam’s face screwed up in confusion. “Wait. You two didn’t do anything last night?”

Dean’s face heated in an obvious manner and Sam chuckled. “Shut up, bitch. Not that it’s any of your business, but no, we didn’t do the dirty.”

Sam leaned back and tapped a finger to his lips as they spread in a thoughtful grin. “Now that’s interesting.”

“Enough. I’ll go over there tomorrow, but only if you two stop with the inquisition. Capiche?” Dean was beyond ready lay this conversation to rest.

“No, you need to go today. Trust me, this is a good day to do it,” Sarah said with a glint in her eye.

“You know that’s suspicious as shit, right? Now I’m definitely going tomorrow,” Dean said playfully.

“Sam, your brother is a stubborn asshole,” she said mildly.

The younger Winchester shrugged with a helpless sort of ‘what can you do?’ face. “This was your idea,” he said to his girlfriend, who looked utterly unimpressed. At this, Sam turned a pleading face toward his brother. “I’m sure there’s a good reason, right Sarah?”

At this, Sarah’s grin turned foxlike. “A very good reason. Have I ever steered you wrong, Dean?”

“Fine,” Dean muttered as he poked at a potato. “But it better be worth it because I swear you’ll be the first victim in the next prank war if I end up looking like some jackass creeper rollin’ in there today.”

Sarah’s chuckle was disconcertingly dark, coming from such a feminine woman. “And if you find out you’re glad you listened?”

“You get the grand prize of feeling smug and it keeping it to yourself,” Dean said with a cheesy grin.

“I think that’s as good as you’re going to get,” Sam offered to her.

“I guess I’ll take it then,” Sarah acquiesced, though she didn’t really look all that disappointed.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, can I eat my damned dinner in peace?”

Sarah snickered. “I can only imagine what you’re going to be like when you’re actually old, if you’re such a cranky old fart right now.”

Dean pointed his fork in her direction. “Are you sassin’ me, girl?” He tried to frown, but it melted into a grin at Sam’s bark of laughter.

 

***

 

Dean made what he thought was a pretty good attempt at procrastinating his visit to Cas. After dinner was over, he helped put the leftovers away and was depositing an armful of dishes into the sink when Sarah walked over and kindly called him out on it. She slid the wager money into his hand and all but shoved him out of the room. By the time he got to the landing at the front door, Sam was waiting with his jacket and a smug grin on his face like the scheming little shit that he was. It was unseasonably warm for the first week of October, so Dean didn’t bother putting it on, despite the fact that the sun was rapidly setting.

“I’m not calling you later,” Dean warned. Sam merely shrugged and sent him on his way with a suspiciously calm, “Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dean was pulled up in front of Cas’ apartment complex, staring up at the second floor windows. Why in the hell was he so nervous? It’s not like Cas hadn’t all but told him to come back. In fact, it seemed like he’d almost given Dean some sort of open invitation. Still, Sarah’s insistence that he make the trip today had him a bit worried for what he was going to find. He couldn’t even begin to wonder what that was all about.

_Come on, it’s just a dude, he doesn’t bite. Or maybe he does. That might not be such a bad thing. Heh. Shit, focus. Wait, that’s why you’re here, right? There’s a hot dude up there, so just go._

Pep talk concluded, Dean made his way into the building and up to the second floor, the hall eerily void of human sounds except for the strains of some older, jazzy-sounding song starting up. The closer he got to the end of the hallway, the more obvious it became that the music was coming from Cas’ apartment. By the volume of it, dude must’ve really been jammin’ out.

Once he reached Cas’ door, he saw that it was slightly ajar, as if forgotten halfway through closing it. Probably was, in all honesty. All the same, Dean felt like he should knock, and rapped his knuckles as hard as he could without pushing the door open further. After a good ten seconds and no response, he tried again, with the same result. Finally, he gave up on being polite and poked his head in the door and hollered out for the man. He could hear shuffling and things being moved around out of his line of vision, behind a screen meant to serve as a room divider, but no verbal confirmation aside from some soft singing along to the chorus of the song.

_Then we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that we were and the way that we wanted to be_

_Then we sat on our own star and dreamed of the way that I was for you and that you were for me_

Wet slaps on a hard surface punctuated some of the words, the singing tapering off into a hum as another verse started up. Curiosity piqued, Dean tread carefully into the apartment, figuring that Cas couldn’t be too opposed to his intrusion, if the man was going to leave the door open for the world to come through. The moment he was able to see beyond the divider, Dean’s mouth promptly dried up and he froze, rooted to the spot.

Cas was standing barefoot and shirtless on a drop cloth before a large canvas, a pair of paint-stained scrub pants hanging obscenely low on his hips. Random smears of paint in variations of deep blues, purples, and bits of grassy green decorated a lean, muscular torso that upon closer examination bore no tan lines, despite its sun-kissed complexion. His hands were completely covered in shining wet paint, one blue, and one purple, hanging lax at his sides. A blue streak ran across his forehead and dipped into the hairline at his right temple, where he must have attempted to wipe his forehead at some point. Cas’ relaxed posture had his hips slung forward, eyes closed and a soft smile curling his lips as he lifted his chin upward. The smile brightened into something absolutely radiant, despite closed eyes, as the chorus started up again. A soft, joyful chuckle spilled past his lips and he absently brought a paint-covered hand up to rest on one hip, leaving a smeary handprint on the expanse of skin there.

It was a stunning image, and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat at the unadulterated happiness of Cas’ laugh. Dean would never admit it, but Cas reminded him in that moment of a flower, reaching its petals toward a sun that only Cas could see. This man was losing himself in a song as he was clearly experiencing a moment of what appeared to be profound inspiration; profound enough that he’d paused his painting to more fully appreciate it. It occurred to Dean that he was literally watching Cas’ art as it was being created, an idea in its conception, to be born on the canvas at some point likely soon.

Two emotions struck Dean in rapid succession at this realization; first was complete awe. Second: guilt.

Dean Winchester was acting like a giant creepy creeper, the exact thing that he’d been trying to avoid. Cas’ head had slowly tilted down, to hang loosely, as the song switched to something much slower, but undoubtedly by the same artist; the voice was very distinct.

It definitely wasn’t Dean’s normal type of music, but it held an appeal of its own that seemed to fit Cas in a way, despite the vastly different sounds of the two songs. He found himself envious of Cas, wishing he could just close his eyes and listen to the music as well, burrow into it the way Cas was able to. The man’s face had dropped into a serene ghost of a smile as he began to sway slightly to the song and hum along a bit. Cas was beautiful.

The longer Dean had stood there unannounced, the more invasive he felt. His eyes landed on the blue-slicked hand and naturally trailed up the gentle curves of Cas’ arm, appreciating the unexpected muscle  as he considered turning and leaving quietly the way he’d come. But then Dean zoned in on a nibble-worthy collarbone and followed it upward to the column of Cas’ neck, where a slightly thicker layer of stubble lay than had been there the night before. The man’s lips had quirked into a gentle grin, eyes still closed, when he spoke suddenly, softly.

“You know, most people study the art, not the artist.”

Dean startled and then immediately felt what seemed like every ounce of blood in his body rush to his neck and face. Fuck. But then Cas took a careful step forward, and leaned his torso in ever so slightly with head tilted, and for a wild moment, Dean was certain that the man was trying to parse out his heartbeat by sound. Instead, he sniffed gently and a tiny grin appeared before he slowly peaked open one eye- “Hello, Dean”- and then the other. The tiny grin grew as he took in Dean’s utterly mortified expression. “I thought that was you,” he murmured.

This would’ve been the perfect time to say something, anything; return the greeting, apologize for strolling in uninvited or perhaps the utterly inappropriate emotional voyeurism. Dean opened and shut his mouth a few times as he tried to form a proper response, but nothing seemed to come. His gaze shot down to his feet and he cleared his throat. Still trying to find words, he was surprised when he felt a cool, calming wet hand touch his neck and was certain that he would’ve heard a sizzling sound had his pulse not been roaring in his ears. Darting his eyes up, he caught Cas’ gaze, fondness and amusement twinkling in those deep blue pools. It was about this time that Dean’s brain started functioning again and he realized that that was freakin’ **paint** on his neck. Cas watched the realization dawn and chuckled at the way Dean’s lips twitched in an effort not to complain about it. Oh, this was going to be interesting.

 “It seems that I have a gift for leaving you speechless when we’re alone,” Cas said with an arch of his brow, finally peeling his now-sticky hand away from Dean’s neck.

Dean shook his head and breathed out. “No, Cas. I’m just really good at making an ass of myself around you. Jesus, I’m sorry.” Then he turned and started to walk way, but was stopped by the feeling a strong hand clasping firmly but gently to the back of his neck.

“Did I say anything about being upset that you were watching me?” Cas purred next to his ear, infuriatingly close, yet the only contact between them was the hand on Dean’s neck.

A small shiver ran down Dean’s spine at the implications of Cas’ words. “No, I guess you didn’t,” he replied shakily. “So how long…” he trailed off.

Cas scraped a sticky knuckle against the scruff beneath Dean’s jaw and pulled away wordlessly, walking over to a table full of brushes, paints, and tools that Dean couldn’t begin to name the function of. Going right to it, Cas used that same knuckle to press a button on a remote lying on the table and the volume of the music died down into a more comfortable volume. He then returned and stood directly in front of Dean, two feet of space between them.

“Since the moment you came around the screen. I was enjoying myself though, and didn’t feel like speaking,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “And you seemed to enjoy looking,” he said pointedly, “so we both got what we wanted,” he smirked.

Cas stood there completely at ease, as if Dean hadn’t totally violated his privacy less than five minutes ago, because apparently the dude was an exhibitionist. Christ. And was that a fucking invitation to keep looking? One way to find out.

Dean let his eyes roam downward, appreciating the planes and curves of Cas’ torso, willing himself not to look away in embarrassment at being watched as he did this. His gaze slid over ribs that he really wanted to run his fingers over and feel the slight dips, hipbones that shouldn’t even be possible, and then across to a smooth stomach that Dean could easily imagine running his tongue over. Dean’s pants were getting tighter with each patch of skin he focused on, but he’d expected that. He noted the slight swell below the man’s navel and felt his face flushing, as he allowed his eyes to move down the trail of hair that led down to the waistband, and oh. ‘Obscenely low slung’ was definitely the right phrase Dean’s mind had chosen earlier for those pants, because peeking out over the edge of the waistband was the hint of the thatch of hair that lay beneath. Fucking hell, the bastard was going commando. Two more inches is all those goddamned pants would have to shift. Of course, logically, the only thing that seemed to be holding them up at the moment was the very obvious erection tenting the front. And that…that was mightily impressive. A soft whimper escaped Dean’s throat as he held back the urge to touch it. God, but he wanted his hands and mouth on Cas, like last century. Cas’ dick gave an emphatic twitch at the sound, and Dean darted his eyes back up to finally meet the man’s gaze.

An attractive flush had risen on Cas’ cheeks, but it didn’t seem to be from embarrassment, as he had no qualms about meeting Dean’s look head-on. His nostrils were slightly flared, and his pupils were blown. They stood there quietly for a minute, as if each were daring the other to move first. Dean wasn’t dumb; he was fully aware that Cas had started some kind of game with him last night, and though Dean wasn’t one for games typically, this was something different. This was more like a challenge.

“You should go close the door,” Cas finally relented.

With a swallow and a quick nod, Dean crossed the room eagerly, aware that it was impossible to pretend that he wasn’t on board with whatever was about to happen. Once Dean was back in front of Cas, the man nodded approvingly.

“I think you should take your clothes off so I can kiss you without ruining them,” the man said easily.

“That’s the only reason?” Dean teased, already working his overshirt off of his shoulders.

“Certainly not. I have plans for you, Winchester,” Cas said with a deep rumble, his eyes fierce and trained on Dean’s.

The tone of his voice made it clear that this was not a flirtation; it was a fact. A fact that made Dean glad that he was getting the confining denim of his pants off of his body. Shoes and socks came off quickly, but he sensed that Cas would appreciate him not just ripping his pants off, so he unbuttoned and unzipped as casually as he could muster, making a show of pushing them down. Cas hummed quiet approval, unabashedly raking his gaze over the skin that had been revealed, encouraging Dean to continue on to his t-shirt. He removed it even more slowly, making sure that Cas got a good view of his shoulder muscles flexing and moving as the shirt was pulled over his head. Dean was fully aware of his assets, after all.

“Good,” Cas purred, but it wasn’t a comment; the tone held praise.

Goosebumps washed over Dean’s arms because he knew that tone. He’d been curious in his college days, and may have visited a special club a few times before he had to drop out. That was a secret he thought he’d take to the grave, a piece of himself that would simply have to stay locked away, not out of shame for himself, but from lack of opportunity.

Dean cleared his throat and took a good look at Cas, trying to determine how to approach what he thought was going on. If he was wrong, this could definitely get awkward. “So what exactly are those plans?”

Cas closed the distance and raked his hands gently down Dean’s chest, leaving a faint trail of paint that hadn’t quite dried on his hands and eliciting a sharp intake of breath when they passed over Dean’s nipples. “I’d like to take care of you,” he said seriously. One hand skated back up to the back of Dean’s head and tugged at his hair, a tease and a warning in one simple move of calculated pressure. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut and a small groan escaped. The fingers in Dean’s hair tightened as Cas’ breath hitched; Dean didn’t need his eyes to know what Cas’ face would look like.

“Eyes on me,” Cas commanded quietly. Dean obeyed eagerly, pleased when he saw the look of satisfaction in Cas’ eyes. “Beautiful,” Cas breathed, loosening his fingers to trail blunt nails down Dean’s spine. “But I need your explicit permission, Dean. Would you like me to take care of you when you come over here?” When his hand made it to Dean’s lower back, he spread his fingers to rest his palm soothingly, right above the waistband of Dean’s boxers. “I would, of course, need you to be willing to obey me, in order to receive the most benefit from this.”

And goddamn, this was nothing like he’d experienced at the club; this was a completely different rush, not born of secrecy, but of rediscovery. It also helped that he felt that he could trust Cas with his body; the man had gone to medical school and people trusted him during his yoga classes to not push their bodies past what they were capable of.

“Permission granted, Sir,” Dean smirked. Yeah, he knew he was a dork, but he couldn’t help but remember the ‘bridge’ comment from the night before. Cas barked out a surprised laugh, eyes sparkling with fondness. He was still chuckling a bit when he reached for Dean’s hands to lace their fingers together, hands dry now, save for a bit of paint that had been stuck between his fingers. “And you’re sure you want this? You’re certain that you’re willing to submit to me?”

Instead of answering, Dean grinned cheekily before dropping to his knees and placing his arms behind his back, right hand grasping his left wrist. When he looked back up, Cas’ eyebrows were making a valiant effort to retreat into his hairline, but lowered back down when Dean winked at him. Cas chuckled and reached down to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, enjoying the way the man leaned into his touch. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have guessed that you’d done this before,” Cas said, relief coloring his voice.

Dean shook his head. “Never done it like this. Just went to a club a few times several years ago.”

Cas hummed thoughtfully as he traced the shell of Dean’s ear with gentle fingers. “Well, then this may be a rather different experience for you.” He swept his fingers over Dean’s temple and over to trace the lines of his face with a reverence that Dean knew he shouldn’t have been surprised by, but was all the same. He stayed perfectly still as Cas explored, fighting the urge to fidget under such tender treatment.

In a surprising act of submission, Cas knelt down to face Dean eye-to-eye and pulled his arms out from behind his back. “And while I appreciate your eagerness, we need to discuss our terms before we begin.” That simple act of respect made warmth spread through Dean’s chest; even now, Cas was taking care of him, making sure that Dean would have his needs and desires met. Dean felt confident that he’d made the right decision to trust Cas with this, despite the fact that they’d known each other such a short time.

After ten minutes of brutally frank discussion, they had their terms set and safewords in place and Cas stood up, extending a hand to the other man. After Dean was on his feet, Cas continued pulling until their hips were flush and shifted his hands to rest on the taller man’s waist. Dean was a little relieved to feel that he wasn’t the only one whose erection had flagged a bit while they’d talked.

“Now that that’s settled, I say we wait until next time to begin. I’d like to spend some regular time with you, if that’s alright,” Cas requested.

And Dean could understand that. They did barely know each other, after all, and Dean was glad to have a night to let the change between them sink in. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he nodded. Then he reached up to cup Cas’ face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “I think I’d like that kiss now,” he grinned, knowing exactly how cheesy he sounded. A quick search of his brain came up with zero fucks to give because the damage had already been done the night before, and Cas was well aware that Dean was a dork.

Cas chuckled to himself. “As you wish, Buttercup,” he murmured with a smirk, cutting off Dean’s likely indignant reaction by leaning in for the much-awaited kiss. The man still managed to huff around the kiss, and Cas retaliated by nipping his lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. Dean breathed a soft little sound of surprise through his nose that turned into a contented hum when Cas’ tongue moved forward to nudge gently against his own. He responded immediately, sliding his tongue over Cas’ in a slow, sinuous movement that pulled a low groan from the other man.

They kissed, heated but unhurried, until Dean was dizzy and pulled away to rest their foreheads together as they caught their breath. Cas eventually let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, but didn’t offer any comment. It took a moment for Dean to realize that they were moving, Cas’ arms wound over Dean’s shoulders as they swayed together. Then he became aware that the swaying had a definite rhythm to it; apparently they had been dancing to the song that filtered through the speakers, without realizing it. But Dean Winchester does not dance, so he stopped and frowned, earning a gentle laugh from Cas before the man began to sing through a semi-sarcastic smile.

_Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance_   
_With the stars up above in your eyes_   
_A fantabulous night to make romance_   
_'Neath the cover of October skies_

The last line was delivered with an endearing waggle of eyebrows, the whole display revealing to Dean that he wasn’t the only ridiculous person in the room. He also realized that somehow, Cas had gotten him dancing again; smooth little shit. Before he could protest though, the song was winding down and in a confusing show of grace and strength, Cas dipped him. An indignant squawk of surprise made its way out before Dean could stop it, and Cas, now upgraded in Dean’s mind to ‘little fucker’, just chuckled as he pulled Dean back up.

The wild surprise in Dean’s eyes was priceless, as was the blush the rose on his face once Cas had righted him. He knew that the move would be worth it and his chuckle grew into a laugh as Dean tried and failed to look angry. If anything, he just looked confused and slightly aroused.

“What the hell, Cas?!” Dean finally managed to find words, though they didn’t carry the heat that Cas was certain they were intended to.

Provoking Dean was quickly becoming one of Cas’ new favorite things to do, so he simply shrugged and grinned before bringing the other man back in close. This time he made his intentions clear, clasping one hand around Dean’s and bringing the other around his waist, leaning in close enough that their chests were touching. Cas sighed in relief when Dean relaxed into his hold and started swaying with him again, even as the man shook his head.

“You know I don’t dance, right?” Dean finally said.

“Oh really,” Cas said flatly, no question in his tone.

“No, I don’t,” he said, as he continued to dance.

Cas hummed and hooked his chin over Dean’s shoulder. “Well you should. It holds a pleasant sort of intimacy of its own. Standing close to another person, joining your bodies,” he said with a squeeze to the hand he was holding, “moving as a single unit. Appreciating a piece of music together, and anticipating the other person’s movements as you feel the shift of their muscles under your hands.” To emphasize his point, he pulled back and minutely lifted their joined hands, pleased when Dean understood and raised them higher to allow Cas to twirl and rejoin him. Dean rolled his eyes as a small grin played at his lips.

“Sex, Cas. What you’re describing is sex,” Dean reasoned.

Cas nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, dancing is similar in that manner. But it’s a pleasure all its own, whether it leads to sex or not. Is this not pleasing to you, Dean?” He smoothed a hand down Dean’s spine, leaving it to rest in the small of his back.

The quirk of Cas’ brow said that he already knew the answer, despite the fact that he was waiting for Dean’s reply. “Yeah, it is,” Dean nodded slowly, “but that’s also not really a fair question, Cas. Not when we’re standing here on top of each other, half-naked.” Dean cocked a meaningful eyebrow at the other man.

Cas chuckled and pulled away. “Okay, you have a point.” He seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment before he spoke again, his eyes darker when he brought them back to meet Dean’s with a salacious grin. “This is going to be interesting, I think,” he said vaguely, as he swept his gaze over Dean, head to toe and back again. Dean knew that Cas was referencing their arrangement and did his best not to squirm under the look of delight that was lighting those deep blue eyes. Anticipation and arousal swirled in Dean’s gut, but was temporarily dampened when Cas’ grin softened and he sighed.

“Let’s get you dressed again, shall we?”

Well, then. Apparently that wasn’t delight he’d seen, after all. It seemed that Cas was done with him for the day, and Dean felt disappointment swoop in his stomach at what sounded like a dismissal. Even though he knew it wasn’t really a rejection- they had an arrangement to prove it- it still stung a bit. Dean turned away to hide his frown as he looked for his clothes, but quickly felt a gentle hand press between his shoulder blades.

“I don’t wish for you to go, Dean. I’d very much like to spend some more time with you, but I feel that we could have much more productive conversation if we’re clothed,” Cas said gently. He extended two fingers to rest at Dean’s temple. “I’m just as interested in this as I am,” he then reached to grope a surprising handful of Dean’s ass, “in this.”

“Oh,” Dean said sheepishly. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Cas might be interested in anything more than the freaky sex they were going to be engaging in. He’d genuinely thought that all of their interaction up to this point was just some drawn-out foreplay and nothing more. Dean wasn’t sure if he should feel flattered or like a huge asshole for not being with the program. Obviously he liked Cas and was intrigued by him, but had assumed that someone like that would never find Dean interesting.

Cas had to give it to him, Dean made a good effort at schooling his features, but those vibrant green eyes and the sudden tension in his shoulders gave him away. His heart hurt for Dean, that the man seemed to be surprised that someone would see value in him beyond his body. Cas was smart enough though, to know that discussing it any further at the moment would push Dean away and chose a less emotional path with his next words, keeping his tone light.

“It seems like it would be a disservice to both of us, if we don’t get to know each other. I can only assume you’d feel more comfortable knowing more about the person you’ll be submitting to, right?” Cas shrugged.

It must have been the right thing to say, because Dean seemed to calm down and his shoulders relaxed a bit. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied quietly, a tiny grin lifting one corner of his mouth. He started to grab for his clothes, but Cas swooped down, beating him to it and gathered them up.

“Here,” was all he said, as he slid Dean’s t-shirt over his head in one swift movement, ignoring Dean’s frown. “Like I said, I intend to take care of you while you’re here,” he said with a tone that brooked no argument. Dean seemed simultaneously bewildered and irritated, but Cas merely ducked his head, eyes never leaving Dean’s, daring the man to challenge him. Dean finally huffed, but pushed his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

“Good,” Cas grinned, satisfied. And he definitely didn’t miss the goosebumps that raced over Dean’s arms at the praise, or the little smile that the man tried to hide as he looked away. “Now, let’s get your pants on and go sit on the couch. I'm curious to know what brought you here today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of the songs referenced are by Van Morrison. When Dean shows up, Cas is listening to "The Way Young Lovers Do", and the song they accidentally danced to is "Moondance". If you don't know these, I suggest you give them a listen and just imagine Cas singing the second one to Dean with a shit-eating grin on his face. Makes me smile, anyway *shrugs*


	4. Chapter 4

Making it to the couch had been easy enough. Cas had even had the grace to pull on a t-shirt like a civilized human being and was sitting a polite distance from Dean, legs folded up on the cushion. Now that they were sitting here though, Dean started to feel a bit awkward, unsure of how to proceed. He was grateful that Cas seemed to understand and bless him, he just started scratching gently up Dean’s arm from wrist to elbow, focusing his gaze on his own hands. The silence settled into something more relaxed after a minute, and Dean finally felt ready to speak.

 “So, uh, what happened with medical school?”

Cas’ hand paused its movement briefly, then resumed in the form of rubbing his fingertips gently in the same pattern his nails had been tracing. A sigh and a sad little smile told Dean that this was a touchy subject and he inwardly cursed himself for opening with something so personal. Cas didn’t seem surprised that he asked, though.

“I was in my first year of residency and-“

Dean frowned and cut him off. “Whoa, wait. Don’t you do that after you’ve already graduated? I thought you said you quit school.”

Cas nodded tiredly. “I suppose I did. Yes, I graduated med school, but I don’t really consider myself ‘done’ because I quit during my residency and didn’t receive my license.”

Well shit. Cas wasn’t a drop-out; he was a freakin’ doctor in Dean’s eyes, despite the lack of license. That’s not intimidating at all. _Or hot_ , his brain helpfully supplied. Still, all of that happened two years ago, and Cas had already told him that he traveled after high school.

“Cas? How old were you when you graduated high school?”

At this, Cas scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Sixteen and burnt out, with acceptance letters from schools that I didn’t even apply for myself, other than to sign. My mother was very determined to raise a doctor,” he ended with a bitter curl of his lips.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean whispered, unsure of what else to say.

After a moment of quiet, Cas seemed to find his focus again and steered back toward topic. “After all the traveling, I don’t know who was called, but somehow a spot was made for me and I went to school with the intent of becoming an orthopedic surgeon. I liked the idea of being able to repair something broken and dislocated and help people reclaim their lives, you know?”

Dean nodded, his chest filling with warmth for the man in front of him. This beautiful man with careful hands and a brilliant mind, that despite being pushed into a calling he hadn’t asked for, was still capable of finding meaning in it. Sensing that Cas was about to get lost in his thoughts, Dean laid a grounding hand over Cas’, which had gone still on Dean’s arm as he spoke. Relief and affection flickered over his features and Cas took a calming breath.

“So anyway, I was a few months into my residency and let’s just say that I fucked up,” Cas said, releasing a sigh through his nose. Dean’s eyes widened, and Cas realized how that must have sounded. “Oh god! Nothing like that! No one got hurt or anything. I just didn’t…” Cas trailed off, grasping for the right words. “I bent some rules to help someone, and had to quit the program before the shitstorm could begin, when I was found out.”

Both men fell quiet for a moment, Dean digesting the information, and Cas waiting for Dean’s judgment. He was fully aware that he sounded like a coward and wouldn’t be surprised at all if Dean’s face held disgust when their eyes would meet again.

“Do you regret it, though?” Dean asked carefully.

“No,” Cas answered immediately. Cas shook his head at himself and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t regret helping that person, but in hindsight, I know I should’ve done things differently. But, you know, the ‘road to Hell’ and all that.”

“So,” Dean drew the word out, “you became a yoga instructor so you could still help people?”

At this, Cas grinned genuinely for the first time since they’d sat down. “Yes, for the most part. I may not be able to put people back together, but at least I can aid in preventing someone’s body from not falling apart quite so easily. Plus, it has its own benefits,” he winked.

Dean saw the lightening of the tone for what it was and chuckled at the innuendo, glad to follow the new path of discussion. “Oh yeah?”

Cas hummed with a look of feigned innocence as he tapped an index finger to his mouth. “Let’s see. Well, for one, the increase of oxygen to the brain allows for greater focus. Then there’s the benefit of better coordination, improved flexibility, and strong core muscles.”

And yeah, Dean knew exactly what Cas was insinuating about core muscles, already imagining them being put to use. With that, Dean’s brain nosedived southward, filthy images of the many ways that Cas could use those muscles to pound into him in any number of creative positions. Realizing that the man was still looking at him, a deep flush crept up Dean’s neck, certain that his face must have betrayed his thoughts. Not that those thoughts hadn’t been purposely planted there, but still.

“There it is,” Cas purred with amusement, reaching to trace his fingertips against the reddening flesh of Dean’s neck. It was just as satisfying making the man blush today as it had been the night before and Cas chuckled darkly at Dean’s scoff. “I assure you, I am 1000% okay with whatever just happened in there,” he said with a tap to Dean’s temple.

“Oh, I’m sure you would be,” Dean smirked, trying his damnedest to deflect.

Cas laughed lightly and laid a hand on top of Dean’s thigh, too high up to be friendly but not high enough to be indecent, and squeezed. “Well, I’m sure it will come to pass,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “I intend to lend my focus to every part of your body, after all,” he said, letting the hand on Dean’s thigh drift higher. His fingertips came to rest on Dean’s inner thigh, just shy of where Dean wanted them.

Dean felt ridiculous. He’d been touched more brazenly back in his teenage years and not felt himself getting turned on this quickly. And of course Cas knew exactly what he was doing, which made it simultaneously irritating and hot as fuck.

“Are you going to tease me all damned night?” Dean husked, surprised at how deep his own voice had already gone.

Tilting his head, Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not going to lie, I enjoy teasing you. However, I think it would only be fair if you shared something about yourself now,” he said, withdrawing his hand to a more friendly distance from Dean’s crotch.

Sure, it was fair, but that didn’t mean that Dean was thrilled that Cas had moved his hand in preparation for the conversation. He wondered if that made him a little masochistic, that he’d prefer to have the man’s hand hovering near his dick without any intention of touching it. If he weren’t a bit masochistic, he wouldn’t be in this position though, would he? A wry chuckle escaped Dean’s lips that earned him a look of confusion from the man next to him. Instead of answering, Dean grabbed the hand on his thigh and shifted it back to where it had been, if not a tad closer than before, the barest of fingertips brushing his balls through the denim.

Cas’ fingers twitched involuntarily and Dean squirmed a bit, but wasn’t meeting Cas’ eyes. Was Dean really so insecure, even with the knowledge of their arrangement, that he needed the touch as a reminder? The realization settled like a stone in the pit of Cas’ stomach.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” The words tumbled out of Cas’ mouth before he realized he’d said them out loud and he grimaced when Dean’s eyes shuttered off.

“I’m sorry, that’s really none of my business,” Cas rushed, to correct his mistake.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Dean bit out harshly. He knew he’d overdone it when Cas looked down and nodded, keeping his eyes pinned to some vague place around Dean’s knees. And damned if Cas didn’t keep his hand exactly where Dean had asked for it, despite looking like a scolded puppy. Shit. Awesome way to start out whatever this relationship was.

“Okay, look, I’m just not good at this kind of thing, so just bear with me, alright?” Dean nudged Cas in the ribs with his elbow. Blue eyes looked up hesitantly, and satisfied with what they found, Cas leaned in placed a chaste kiss to Dean’s jaw. It almost hurt, to be treated kindly after such terse behavior.

“I just…I’ve only been in one relationship before, and it was serious. Her name was Lisa, and she has a son, Ben. Thought he was mine for a while there, til she showed me the papers,” he said with a sad smile that made Cas’ heart lurch in his chest. “Anyway, we broke up three years ago, but I still see Ben a few times a month. We ended on good terms and all,” Dean shrugged, seeming to be at a loss for what else to say on the matter.

By this point, Cas had figured out that understanding Dean Winchester was all about reading between the lines, and though he enjoyed the challenge, some of what he found made his heart ache. Although Dean was clearly a man that had no problem warming his bed, it was definitely not due to being shallow. Oh, Dean.

“May I ask you something in relation to us?” Cas asked, gesturing between them.

Shifting uncomfortably, Dean cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“Are you…would you maybe…”

A small smile lifted one corner of Dean’s mouth at Cas’ fumbling. “Spit it out, Cas.”

With a deep sigh, Cas looked at Dean, clearly weighing whether he should say what was on his mind. Then his shoulders straightened and Dean knew he’d gathered his courage.

“I was hoping that maybe you’d consider being monogamous with me,” he finally offered.

Dean found the clinical wording surprisingly amusing and chuckled softly. “Cas, are you asking me to go steady after the first date?”

Cas squinted, obviously trying to figure out if Dean was being serious. “Not necessarily,” he said carefully. “I’m not trying to make any assumption about your interest in dating me, though I wouldn’t object.”

“Wow, glad to know you feel so strongly about it,” Dean deadpanned, irritated with Cas’ neutrality.

Pursing his lips, Cas removed his hand from Dean’s thigh. Before Dean could protest, he had a lapful of Cas, straddling his thighs and boring his gaze right into Dean’s. Resting one hand on each of Dean’s shoulders, Cas quirked a suggestive brow before rolling his hips down. With a surprised grunt, Dean’s hands flew up to grasp Cas’ hips, wide green eyes meeting blue that had darkened quickly.

“My respect for your feelings should _not_ be mistaken for apathy,” Cas said, letting his voice dip dangerously. “For your information, I _don’t_ like to share,” he murmured next to Dean’s ear, rolling his hips to punctuate the statement. The man beneath him shuddered and groaned at the movement. Cas pulled back to look Dean square in the eye. “But I’m also rational enough to know that we should be in mutual agreement.”

“Why?” Dean asked hoarsely. At Cas’ squint, Dean cleared his throat and tried again. “Why would you want to limit yourself to just me?”

Cas’ eyes gentled and his hands slid to rest on either side of Dean’s neck. “Because you’re interesting,” he said with a peck to Dean’s cheek. “And smart,” he kissed Dean’s temple. “Loyal,” a kiss to his neck. “And sexy as fuck,” Cas murmured into the skin of the dip of Dean’s collarbone before giving it a kitten lick. Dean’s breath hitched and his hips moved restlessly. Sitting back up, Cas took in the darkening of Dean’s eyes and smirked. “Just to name a few.”

Dean shook his head. “Not sure where you’re getting all that, Cas. Well, except for the sexy part,” he said with a smirk, earning a fond eyeroll. His hands slid around to rest on the small of Cas’ back and his face turned more thoughtful. “But I don’t mind, I guess, sleeping with just you.”

The words were nonchalant, but their quiet delivery undermined the effect; Cas chose not to acknowledge his observation. “Good. Then I’ll do my best to make sure that you’re sexually fulfilled.” He was startled when Dean threw his head back in a hearty laugh.

Once the laugh died down a bit, Dean pulled Cas in for a quick apologetic kiss. “Shit, Cas, you make it sound so serious, like a mission.”

“Who says it isn’t?” Cas grinned. Dean snorted, but the sound turned into something else entirely when Cas trailed teasing fingertips over his nipples.

“Shit,” Dean muttered as Cas ground down again, this time with more urgency. He’d already been half-hard throughout the last bit of their conversation, but now Cas was leaning in to place an utterly filthy kiss to his mouth that was quickly making his pants unbearably tight. Dean snaked his hands down to grasp at the other’s man’s ass and pulled him in for a hard grind, swallowing Cas’ low moan at the change in pressure.

Breaking the kiss, Cas pulled back to breathe and slid his hand down to palm at the bulge in Dean’s jeans. “I think I’d like to see what I’m getting myself into, now,” he smirked, as Dean bucked into his touch.

Dean nodded enthusiastically and Cas laughed lightly as he stood up to give Dean room, sliding his own pants down as he got to his feet and removing his shirt. 

Making it as far as unbuttoning his pants and fingers on his zipper, Dean’s hand stilled when he took in the sight of a fully naked Cas. The man stood there, completely unashamed of his nudity, but not posturing either. The ease in Cas’ body was like of an animal in its natural environment, as if it would never occur to him that there was something odd about standing there naked in the middle of your living room. If it were anyone else, Dean was certain that it would’ve come off as the practiced habit of promiscuity. Cas was obviously not shy about his body, but Dean got the sense that Cas was revealing something much more vulnerable than nudity could afford; Cas was allowing Dean to see him at his most human, stripped down in the comfort of a home that he had made for himself, surrounded by the things that made him…him.

“See something you like?”

The low rumbling tease of Cas’ voice shook Dean from his thoughts, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t even been checking the man out. He’d been so busy waxing poetic about Cas as a whole, that he hadn’t even bothered really looking. The realization that the man in front of him had evoked the same response as looking at his paintings the night before hit Dean like a ton of bricks; Cas and his art were one and the same, and it seemed so obvious now. He had been studying Cas as if he were just as much a piece of art as anything the man had slicked onto a canvas, and Dean wanted to feel embarrassed, but couldn’t seem to conjure up the feeling. Cas was stunning, and Dean finally allowed his eyes to focus on the miles of skin in front of him.

The weight of Dean’s gaze had nearly pushed Cas to feeling self-conscious for the first time in many years. It had been flattering, watching the green-eyed man study his work the night before with so much more care than most of the other attendees. But to have that same looked pinned on himself, reverent and piercing, was almost too much. This was the first time that Cas had ever stood naked and aroused before a gaze that wasn’t immediately intent on sexualizing him and his chest tightened. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d thought that Dean Winchester was full of surprises. Once Cas had uttered his words in a nervous ploy to refocus their interaction, Dean’s eyes cleared and darted around to take in the body before him.

“Yeah, I see a lot of things I like,” Dean smirked. And yeah, now that he’d taken the time to really look, Cas’ dick had definitely not disappointed. It hung heavy and thick, slightly curved, and in perfect concert with the rest of the man’s physique. A++, 10/10 would ride. Speaking of…

“Cas?”

A small smile and a quirked eyebrow shifted his face as he made his way over to Dean. “Dean?” he mocked playfully, crouching down to grasp at Dean’s forgotten zipper.

Dean’s breath hitched at the contact of Cas’ hand as it brushed his erection, lowering the zipper far too slowly. “Since we aren’t, uh, sharing,” he broke off with a small gasp when Cas’ fingers slid beneath the waistband of his boxers, “does this mean we can go bare-back?” he asked uncertainly, thinly-masked hope in his tone.

“Yes,” Cas said bluntly, head tilted and humor sparkling in his eyes. “One of the reasons I asked for monogamy, Dean.”

“Oh, thank god,” Dean breathed in relief, a loopy grin on his face.

Cas chuckled at the reaction and made quick work of removing Dean's shirt before pulling Dean’s pants and boxers down together in one swift movement. “Not tonight, though. I’m sure you can understand that I’d like to see your papers, first,” he said gently.

Dean nodded, only slightly disappointed that their activities for the night would be  less athletic than he hoped. “That’s fine, Cas,” he offered with a reassuring grin.

A smile broke out over Cas’ face and he rose up to catch Dean’s lips in a sweet kiss, bracing a hand next to Dean’s head on the back of the couch as he loomed over the man beneath him. Cas rested a knee on the couch between Dean’s own to stabilize his weight, purposely holding himself away from Dean’s lap. When the kiss started to take a more urgent turn, Dean reached out to grasp the beautiful cock in front of him, only to have Cas pull away, shaking his head with a grin on his face.

“I have something else in mind,” Cas offered. He then pulled completely away to stand, holding his hand out to pull Dean up as well. He led them over to the bed and gave Dean’s hand a squeeze once they were standing by it. “Make yourself comfortable at the headboard,” he commanded with a gesture toward the pile of pillows at the top.

Dean’s skin tingled with anticipation, unsure of what Cas was planning, but enjoying what was hopefully a preview of what he was getting into. He took his time situating himself, arranging the pillows against the headboard. Once satisfied, he gave an affirmative nod to Cas.

“Good,” Cas nodded back. He then seated himself at the foot of the bed, one hand coming to rest over Dean’s leg and ran that soft, warm palm up and down the length of Dean’s shin. “I want you to touch yourself.”

So maybe Cas had a voyeurism kink, Dean thought with a mental shrug. He could work with that, maybe even put on a little show. Dean’s cock was now achingly hard and pre-come blurted out as he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Cas’ eyes were locked on Dean’s hand and he licked his lips unconsciously, but didn’t move to touch himself, despite the rock-hard length between his legs. Fuck. Dean’s hips bucked into his own hand, and he groaned as he started fisting himself in earnest. After a minute, he paused to run a fingertip against the slit and hissed at the contact.

A low, throaty groan from the end of the bed made Dean open his eyes, not even aware that he’d closed them until then. Cas’ hand was now gripping Dean’s leg, squeezing to get his attention.

“Dean. Stop,” Cas commanded quietly, voice low and raspy.

The sound made Dean shudder, and it took all of his willpower to obey, breaths coming harsh with effort. Cas made to scoot forward, and Dean’s legs opened automatically, allowing the man space to kneel between them. A satisfied grin lifted the corners of Cas’ mouth as his hands came down splay across Dean’s thighs and move upward, as if memorizing the texture of Dean’s skin. Wordlessly, his hands continued to travel, running up Dean’s torso with gentle fingertips that traced the curves of his bones and dips between muscles. Once he reached Dean’s chest, Cas had to lean forward to keep his balance and positioned his knees on either side of one of Dean’s thighs, still keeping his body to himself. At Dean’s frown (pout) of frustration, Cas leaned in and kissed softly along his collarbone.

“I think I need to clarify,” Cas murmured into the skin of Dean’s throat. He trailed his lips up the side of Dean’s neck, letting the tip of his tongue peek out as he neared the bolt of his jaw. Dean let out a harsh breath when Cas nibbled gently there before placing a soft kiss to the worried flesh. “I want to see you touch yourself the way you want to be touched,” he murmured in Dean’s ear, punctuating his words with a short suckle to the earlobe.

“Cas,” Dean whined breathily, drawing out the name.

Pulling away, Cas cupped Dean’s face with one hand while the other delicately traced the shell of his ear. “It’s no mystery that pumping your dick will get you off, Dean, and that’s not what I’m asking for. I want to see how you like to be touched. There’s no rush, so please treat your body kindly.”

Dean’s throat tightened at the gentleness of Cas’ words. Apparently, Cas really wasn’t looking for a show. At least, not for his own benefit. “Why?” he croaked.

A lopsided grin appeared on Cas’ face as he leaned back to sit on Dean’s leg and shrugged. “For science?”

“For science,” Dean said dryly. Cas snorted at his reaction and then chuckled when Dean’s face remained as blank as ever.

“Yes, Dean. I may be confident in my ability to please, but it doesn’t hurt to gain a little input.”

“Are you really trying to be all rational about sex?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Rationality doesn’t detract from or negate passion and sensuality. Mindless sex is boring and forgettable, is it not?”

“Yeah?” Dean drew out the word, sensing that Cas wasn’t quite done.

Tracing idle fingers over the plains of Dean’s abdomen, Cas tilted his head. “What makes sex so incredible is that it mostly takes place in the mind. It’s such a physical act, but the pleasure is only as intense as the mind allows. It’s all a delicate balance of chemistry and nerve impulses communicating together, opening the senses to greater stimulation. And that’s only the physiological side. Bring this together with the mental side of it, and it’s truly an incredible feat of the human body. And seeing that we’re one of the few species that has sex for pleasure, I figure it makes us sacred, in a way. Why not appreciate the way our bodies are designed?” he ended quietly.

Dean swallowed thickly, confused at how attractive it was to listen to Cas discuss fucking physiology while in the middle of sexy times. Most likely due to the fact that it hadn’t sounded clinical at all, the way the man’s voice had risen and fallen with fascination and reverence as he spoke. It was becoming easier to reconcile the artist with the doctor, now. Simply put, Cas clearly viewed the human body as a work of art just as much as any sculpture or painting one would admire.

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” Dean asked.

Cas chuckled and shrugged again, a gesture that Dean found utterly endearing. “I tend to do that with things that interest me,” he said, looking at Dean through his lashes.

Dean inwardly cursed the blush that rose up on his cheeks. “Yeah, okay. So how about you focus your interest on my hands?” He couldn’t quite fight his own grimace at the crude words as they left his mouth.

A tiny frown knit Cas’ brow, but he let the comment pass, seeing it for the emotional stress reaction that it was. “I will, when you do something interesting,” he smirked, instead.

Without further ado, Dean shuffled down to recline more and winked as he wrapped a loose fist around his cock. Cas also repositioned himself, once again kneeling in the vee of Dean’s legs to watch. If Cas wanted Dean to go all out, then that’s what Dean would do. It would just be like any other lazy weekend day, when Dean would take his time, teasing himself out in the privacy of his own home; he just had an observer now. And though that would normally be off-putting, it was different with Cas.

Stroking his cock slowly, and with nowhere near enough pressure, Dean closed his eyes and trailed his other hand lightly across his stomach. Running it up his body, he teased at a nipple, rolling it between his fingers and gasping a bit, gripping his dick harder, reflexively. The grip felt good, and Dean wanted so badly to chase the arousal curling in his spine and let it take over, but Cas had made his directions clear. With a small whine, Dean pried his fingers away from his cock, knowing that the end would be near if he didn’t let go. Instead, he brought that hand to his hipbone, running his fingers lightly over the curve and down to the hollow, surprised that he’d never noticed that the skin was a little softer there than other parts of his torso.

Continuing his exploration, Dean traced over his own ribs and up to press at his sternum, fascinated with the faint ridges he could feel there. He pressed his palm down, curious to see if he could feel his own heartbeat. He felt something, but unsure as to whether it was just his pulse in his hand, he moved on, remembering that there had been an unattended nipple. The moment he rubbed a fingertip against it, he realized that while his erection had started to flag a bit, the nerves of his skin were alive and well, and hissed in surprise at how much more sensitive the nipple was than usual. All the touching must have gotten him more worked up than he realized, and the simple touch to his chest sent blood rushing down to bring his cock right on back to life with a twitch. Cas hummed a satisfied sound and Dean’s eyes snapped open, almost having forgotten that the man was sitting there. The man may as well have been a statue for how still he’d been.

“Sorry,” Cas said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Dean really wasn’t sure how to respond to that, suddenly completely aware that he’d been lost in the sensations of his own body in a way that he wasn’t sure he’d ever been before. Had he really never taken the time in 30 years to explore what his own goddamned skin felt like? Dean was on the verge of feeling utterly foolish when Cas’ voice cut in.

“Please don’t be embarrassed, Dean,” Cas murmured. “I’m honored to watch you.” The ‘find your body for the first time’ part was left unsaid, hanging delicately in the air. Sensing Dean’s conflict, Cas laid a broad palm above Dean’s knee to run soothingly up his thigh.

Dean knew that it had been meant as a calming gesture, but with his skin so alive, the gentle warmth of Cas’ palm felt electric, leaving a trail of goosebumps and heat in its wake. A shudder wracked Dean’s body and Cas’ hand froze, resting at the juncture of hip and thigh. Dean’s body curled minutely into the touch, as if wanting to wrap itself around the sensation, and Cas’ breath hitched at the movement. Dean felt Cas’ thumb stroke experimentally at the sensitive skin next to the base of Dean’s cock and he shuddered again, stomach muscles twitching as he let out a groan.

“God, you’re responsive,” Cas muttered to himself, eyes full of awe and lust when they met Dean’s. His gaze flicked down to the straining erection next to his hand and back up to Dean’s face, and wordlessly, Dean knew that it was time to give in to the arousal he’d been ignoring. Curling his fingers around his dick, Dean winced as the touch was almost painful. He made a quick detour with his hand to lick his palm before starting as slow a pace as he could stand, releasing a harsh breath in relief.

The heat of Cas’ gaze was like a physical touch, and Dean knew he shouldn’t look up because it would be over before far too quickly if he had to see the man with his sex hair and dilated pupils and paint-y skin…

A low, choked off moan sounded from Cas’ throat and Dean’s restraint was broken. And damned if he didn’t look up just in time to watch a blurt of pre-come drool from the head of Cas’ dick, peeking out from the top of his fist.  Darting his eyes to look at the man’s face, Dean caught his eyes and realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at what Dean was doing; he was looking at Dean’s face.

“Action’s…mmm…down here,” Dean teased breathily, stroking harder.

Cas shook his head as he pumped, then paused to run a finger across his slit and let out a choked off groan. “No Dean, wanna,” his breath shuddered as he resumed with a hard stroke, “wanna see you come. Watch you fall apart.”

Dean was starting to lose his rhythm, thigh and stomach muscles jumping. God, he was close, and he hadn’t even touched his balls or done anything special. Drinking in the sight of Cas, from the way that elegant hand worked his cock, to the wrecked look on his face and the gravel of his voice, Dean shivered at the picture the other man made. The need for contact was like the hollow ache of an empty stomach, and Dean was starving.

“Cas…I need…” Dean broke off, not entirely sure of what he was going to ask for. Apparently his legs were ahead of his brain though, because soon they were wrapped around Cas. Dean swallowed and tightened his thighs. “Please come here?” he asked, voice ragged and quiet.

As much as Cas wanted to watch Dean come apart, he could admit to himself that he wanted the touch just as badly and gave in easily to the urging of Dean’s thighs, pulling him in. When he leaned down to retrieve a kiss, their erections lined up and Dean’s hips bucked into the touch. Both men moaned at the sensation, and the kiss lost any sense of finesse as they began to move against each other. 

Cas knew that being with Dean would feel good, but he hadn’t been prepared for the revelation of actually _feeling_ Dean, all smooth skin and heat and stuttered breaths beneath him. Shit, they weren’t even having actual sex yet, and Dean felt better against his body than anyone Cas could remember in a long time. Cas’ head went light at the reality that soon he would have that privilege and his rhythm faltered a bit. Dean pulled him in, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Cas was surprised to suddenly find himself being manhandled and rolled to reverse their positions.

Dean enjoyed the look of surprise on Cas’ face more than he knew he probably should, but that look of surprise slid off quickly, to be replaced by heat and…a challenge? Seeing it for what it was, Dean leaned in and placed the filthiest kiss he could manage and drug his hips in a slow, torturous slide against Cas’, relishing the loud sinful moan he elicited. Pulling away from Cas’ mouth, Dean sucked a bruising kiss to the man’s throat and felt the man beneath him shudder, hard.

“God, Dean,” Cas uttered, turning into a groan when Dean picked up the pace.

Knowing that he could have that effect on Cas spurred Dean on, and within moments, the rutting started to turn frantic. Cas arched to meet him thrust for thrust, and they were both dribbling pre-come, sliding easily against each other. Dean was certain that Cas was as close as he was, curses and ‘Dean’ interspersed between pants.

“Eyes on me, Cas,” Dean warned, knowing that Cas would understand.

Blue eyes snapped open to meet green, and Cas’ hand snaked up to bury itself in the strands at the back of Dean’s head. “Come for me, Dean,” he commanded, tugging at the hair under his fingers.

That was all it took, and Dean’s body seized up as he came with a throaty grunt, spilling between them. The sight of Dean’s face contorted in pleasure and the wet heat of his seed sliding between their stomachs was overwhelming, and Cas’ legs locked around Dean’s hips. “Fuck!” was all he could manage before he was following Dean, his orgasm sweeping from head to toe and back again until he was dizzy with it.

Dean rolled after a minute, and collapsed on the bed next to him, breathing harshly. A moment later and much to his surprise, Cas felt Dean’s hand search out his own, lacing their fingers together. As they came down from their highs, Dean’s thumb started to stroke softly over Cas’, an unexpectedly tender gesture. A soft laugh drew his attention, and Cas turned his head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dean shook his head, grinning at Cas’ confused frown.

A small squint was the only warning Dean got before his nipple was being held hostage, the threat of a pinch in the tension of Cas’ fingers. Dean gasped and looked up, surprised at the playful smirk on Cas’ face.

“Nothing, you say?” Cas asked, voice teasing as he ever so slightly pinched at the nipple.

“Jesus! Okay, fine,” Dean relented. The pressure eased up, but didn’t let go. “Just…you liked my manhandling, didn’t you?” His nipple was released, and he was met with a dry expression from Cas.

Then the man sighed dramatically and leaned down to lave at the nipple, an apology in the movement of his tongue. Just when Dean thought he was safe though, Cas blew a tiny stream of cool air across the nub of flesh and giggled with a wink at Dean’s noise of surprise.

“How could I not enjoy your manhandling?” Cas asked with feigned sincerity, hand over his heart and fighting a grin. “You’re so strong, and handsome, and…and manly,” Cas trailed off with a crooked grin, petting Dean’s bicep in mock-worship.

“I knew you were a little shit,” Dean muttered, unoffended. Sarcastic!Cas hadn’t made many appearances, but Dean secretly liked it.

Cas chuckled warmly and tilted his head to bite lightly at joint of Dean’s shoulder, waggling his eyebrows. “You’re probably right,” he conceded with a sigh. “But I’m also not too proud to admit that I really do enjoy your way of doing things. Time and a place and all that,” he ended with a smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes fondly, but didn’t retort, instead opting to finally sit up. “Come on, let’s clean up. We’re both a mess,” he gestured between them; they were both covered in come and paint and sweat.

“God, we’re gross,” Cas muttered as he looked down at his own body. But when he looked back up to Dean, his smile was a bit sheepish. “It’s kind of hot, though,” he admitted.

Dean chuckled at the bit of blush that touched Cas’ cheeks and ran a hand through the wild strands of Cas’ hair, fascinated at how they stayed put where he left them. “Hey man, I get it. Really,” he said with emphasis.

Cas’ blush crept away and he gave a small grin. “Well, regardless of hotness, I’m getting itchy. Shower?” Dean nodded enthusiastically and stood up, extending a hand.

Dean’s mind whirled with exactly how messy Cas could get and had to cut himself off before his body got ahead of him. Cas seemed to read his thoughts and raised an eyebrow, taking the proffered hand to pull himself up. “You think awfully loudly, Dean,” he leered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, satisfied at the surprised squawk he got when he swatted at Cas’ ass. “I’ll turn the volume down when I give a rat’s ass,” he grinned.

Cas snorted and returned the swat, not missing the way Dean blushed and stilled. Running his hand over the cheek he’d swatted, Cas grinned and leaned in to kiss Dean’s jaw. “Feel free to leave the volume alone, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oosh, it's been a while, but for those still reading, thank you muchly for hanging in there with me. I swear I haven't forgotten or abandoned this fic...technology just hasn't been my friend recently. However, *knocks on wood* things do seem to be working just fine now, so I should be able to get back to updating more regularly.
> 
> I also wanted to offer many thanks for the kind comments I've gotten on here and on my tumblr. You guys are absolutely lovely, and the encouragement was sorely needed at times, so thank you! Hope you enjoy...

The comfortable intimacy and easy teasing they'd experienced in the shower dissipated as Dean stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of what to do with his hands as Cas looked at him expectantly. At this point a handshake would be ridiculous, a hug was warmer but mostly friendly, and a kiss without the pretense of naughtier things to immediately follow seemed like a thing for a couple to do. He didn't think they'd agreed to dating, but it was more than just a casual fuck-buddy situation, what with the monogamy and all. Maybe just friends that fuck? Sticking his hands in his pockets, Dean felt the wad of cash brush his fingers and inwardly sighed his relief at having something to do with his hands.

"Oh! Here," Dean said as he thrust the bills toward Cas. "This is from Sarah."

Cas frowned at Dean's hand, but made no move to take the money. "What for?"

"I uh," Dean looked off to the side, "I liked the green beans." When he looked up to Cas' face, he watched the realization dawn, his frown transforming into an amused smirk.

"This was your pretense for coming over, wasn't it?" Cas grinned smugly. Without waiting for an answer, he took the money and tossed it into a bowl that contained a scratched up flip phone, a small dead flower, and a key ring with exactly 4 keys and a strip of braided leather attached.

"Maybe," Dean answered distractedly as he eyed the bowl. Why a dead flower?

Following Dean's gaze, Cas was reminded that they hadn’t yet exchanged numbers as his eyes came to rest on his phone. Stepping into Dean’s space, Cas reached into Dean’s pocket and retrieved the man’s phone.

“Help yourself there, Cas,” Dean smirked.

Cas didn’t bother looking up from the phone as he entered his number. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said with a tiny grin, only glancing up to wink.

Once he was finished, he replaced the phone back in Dean’s pocket, much slower and handsier than necessary. Then he proceeded to dip one hand in the other front pocket, while the other went to a back pocket and groped ‘accidentally’ along an ass cheek.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked curiously. Not that he was bothered by the feeling of Cas’ hands on him at all. In fact, he was actually pretty freakin’ okay with it.

A shit-eating grin lit up Cas’ face. “Just checking to make sure you don’t have any other phones squirreled away,” he said, voice dripping innocence.

Dean snorted, pulling Cas in for a playful kiss. Cas’ other hand snaked around to fit into the other back pocket and squeezed much more deliberately. “Doesn’t hurt to be thorough,” he grinned crookedly.

Gropey-flirty-Cas was something else. So far, the man had been mostly just intense and controlled, but not necessarily in a bad way, just different from what Dean was used to. This though…Dean liked this a lot; it was the type of interaction with bed partners that he was more familiar with and left him feeling at ease.

“You sure about that? Because it seems to me that you just like my ass,” Dean grinned.

“Of course I like your ass,” Cas said, almost affronted that Dean would think otherwise. “But really, I just like touching you,” he graveled.

And there was Mr. Intense again.

“Yeah, I uh…kinda gathered that,” Dean fumbled.

Cas tilted his head in thought, a look of near-incredulity on his face that Dean couldn’t make sense of.  He was beginning to form this idea that Cas either had no concept of how unnerving his gaze was (and the impoliteness of staring), or simply didn’t give a shit. Either way, as badly as he wanted to look away, it had come to feel like some sort of challenge, and Dean was nothing if not stubborn.

A small smile tugged at Cas’ lips. “Do you like the way I touch you?”

It was an odd question, and Dean got the sense that there was something else being asked that he wasn’t quite privy to.  It was a little unsettling, and a bit more irritating because he was pretty sure that he’d already made it clear that he was attracted to Cas, and the other man didn’t seem to be one to fish for compliments.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, frustrated with the way it ended up sounding more like a question.

Cas gave him an unimpressed look and stayed silent as he waited for Dean to elaborate. Was it really necessary to make this all kinds of awkward again? Jesus.

“Are you really making me talk about this kind of shit right now?”

Cas shook his head. “No, I have no intention of making you talk about or do anything that you don’t want to. But that’s exactly why I want to know…I want you to feel good when you’re with me, Dean.”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated that even as Cas managed to make him feel raw, the man also had a way of soothing the nerve with his sincerity and those goddamned hands rubbing gently at his wrists.

“Honestly, I’m not used to being touched like this, okay?” Dean lifted his hands up to indicate his wrists and Cas’ hands fell away at the movement. “Not since…look, my mom’s the last person that touched me like- “ Dean cut himself off before he could say something like _I mattered to them,_ or _they really knew me,_ or worse, _like I might need it._

Cas’ eyes softened, and he seemed to get it, and if possible, it frustrated Dean even more that this relative stranger seemed to be able to grasp things that Dean didn’t even like to think about himself.

“Why do you care?” Dean asked tiredly. “You barely know me, man. And I mean don’t get me wrong, I like all this,” he said, running his hands down Cas’ back and grabbing lightly at his ass, “we got goin’ on here, but…” Dean trailed off, unsure of where exactly he was trying to go with that sentence.

“Because I’m not an asshole,” Cas said flatly. “And I’ve had enough nameless fucks in my life that I’m over it. Plus, as I told you, I think you’re interesting, and a good person.”

Rationally, Dean knew that Cas was no virgin. But hearing so bluntly that what sounded like a fair amount of people had been on the receiving end of Cas’ careful ministrations made an irrational tendril of jealousy curl in his gut. It felt vaguely like the emotion he’d felt at the gallery as he imagined people buying his art, but blew off the thought before it could burrow any deeper. Besides, it’s not like he had a right to it…lord knows Dean’s sexual history got really interesting for a while after his parents died.

“Your prerogative, I guess,” Dean shrugged.

Cas’ glare...well, that was a really good glare. But then he stepped in closer and laid a soft kiss to Dean’s lips that was a confusing contrast to the tightness bunching his frame, the very picture of control. Control that Dean found himself wanting to poke at and prod, but not at this moment, because Cas’ mouth was on his and he didn’t want it to leave.

It wasn’t on purpose, it really wasn’t, but when Dean kissed back he knew that it must have come across as an apology, if the way Cas started to relax was any indication. The thing is, he really didn’t want Cas upset with him, and the way the man’s mouth opened under his own felt like some sort of acceptance. Dean had never really kissed like this, as a form of communication (other than to let his desire for sexy times be known, of course), and wondered with a bit of embarrassment if this was something that other people experienced all the time and he’d missed out on something.

And make no mistake, Dean knew that between the two of them they were both more than proficient kissers. This was different though; the slides of their tongues against each other didn’t feel like a dance of techniques being used to rouse each other’s interest. In fact, it felt like there was no technique, just a strange sort of coordination between the two of them, each anticipating the other’s move and answering back seamlessly. It was hypnotic and heady in a way that Dean had never thought could be experienced through something as simple as the pressing of mouths, and when a happy little hum sounded between them, he wasn’t entirely sure who had made it.

Cas pulled away then, and if Dean wasn’t mistaken, there was a slight tremble to the man’s hands where they’d come to rest against his lower back. Before he could confirm, they were pulled away, but the look on Cas’ face told him enough; the man looked slightly surprised, eyes darting over Dean’s face. He reached a hand out toward Dean, but aborted the movement and looked down as he cleared his throat. There was something startling about seeing Cas look uncertain, and Dean got the distinct impression that it was his fault somehow, though he had no clue what was going on.

Dean knew he needed to do something to lighten the tension, and though his first instinct was to kiss it away, he was pretty sure that more kissing would just perpetuate it. Considering that Cas seemed to be the master of soothing with a touch, Dean figured it wouldn’t hurt to try it Cas’ way and see if the effect was reciprocal. And honestly, he kind of felt like an asshole when he realized that Cas had lavished all kinds of gentle touches when Dean had needed it, and Dean had done little more than grope the man up to this point; it was almost embarrassing, how selfish he’d been.

Reaching out, Dean grabbed one of Cas’ hands to lace their fingers together and pulled the man to him, ignoring the surprise in those blue eyes as he pressed a kiss to Cas’ forehead. It felt foreign and the slightest bit awkward to use his touch to comfort someone (aside from taking care of Ben, maybe); Dean’s touch seemed to usually serve a functional purpose. It was worth it though, to push through his own discomfort, when he pulled back and saw the look of relief on Cas’ face. Mission accomplished.

They hadn’t spoken a word since before the kiss, and despite the quietness of his voice, Dean’s words still seemed too loud between them. “I’ll call you.”

Cas gave a tiny grin and squeezed their hands briefly before pulling away. “Goodnight, Dean.”

 

***

 

Cas woke from a fitful sleep on Sunday, exhausted, hard, cranky, and in dire need of coffee; this was not a day for tea. Not when the first thing on his mind upon waking was the disappointment of waking up alone in such a state, as he always did after sex. Lying in bed and wallowing wasn’t going to help any of those problems though, so he jerked off perfunctorily, more to ease his discomfort than anything, and got up to make some coffee. The quietness of his apartment was nerve-wracking; his thoughts sounded too loud and disorganized in his head, and it was too goddamn early for that, so he turned on his stereo and let the invitingly repetitive rhythm of “Walk on the Wild Side” give his brain some background noise to balance things out. About halfway through the song, his thoughts started to untangle from the noisy mess they’d been and smoothed out into something more coherent. Unfortunately, it also meant that he had to pay attention to them, and they didn’t seem to be headed anywhere pleasant. All the same, he knew that he’d spend the whole day in a funk if he didn’t just get it over with and figure out what was going on with himself.

Cas hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t mind dating Dean, but as it stood for now, he wasn’t going to be so foolish as to get invested in the idea that Dean wanted more than a friend and a good fuck from time to time. He was aware enough to know that while he might be a hopeless romantic, that side of himself was not meant to be indulged. Cas didn’t love often, but when he did it was fierce, and he had no desire to scare people away with his devotion; better to just not let on. It was probably unhealthy, using the guise of sexual hunger with his partners to camouflage the genuine plea for intimacy that he craved, but so far it had seemed to work out. He’d never gotten any complaints, and if he felt a little like shit the morning after for not having it reciprocated, despite the fact that he’d carefully disguised his need with lust-filled looks and posturing, then no one had to know.

 _Pathetic, self-sabotaging motherfucker,_ Cas thought bitterly to himself as he sipped his coffee. He didn’t like thinking about his own emotional hang-ups with sex, and certainly didn’t like the hypocrisy he felt in how he’d judged Dean’s obvious intimacy issues. He scowled at the creamy, sugary remains of the coffee in his mug and dumped it down the drain, replacing it with plain black coffee; he didn’t want the comfort of sweetness to soften the blow on his taste buds.

Taking a sip, he winced as the hot bitter liquid filled his mouth and swallowed quickly, coughing once it was down. Okay, so maybe he was being a little melodramatic, drinking symbolically like some pretentious douchecanoe that takes themselves way too seriously. He couldn’t help but scoff at himself. Fixing the cup up the way he liked it soothed his nerves a bit, and the relief at tasting the more familiar flavor his tongue had come to expect was a bit of a balm to his mood.

Maybe it wasn’t hypocrisy at all. Maybe it was the empathy of another damaged soul that had drawn him to Dean. Hypocrisy was an act of undeserved superiority, after all, and at no point had he felt superior to Dean. What he _had_ felt, was a sense of injustice, that someone like Dean (going on the little he knew about the man) would feel undeserving of what? Being cared for? Respect? Affection? Whatever it was, that was still a piece that Cas had yet to puzzle out about Dean.

And then there was the kiss. Just when he thought he understood something new about Dean, the man would go and surprise him with some piece of himself that Cas was certain that Dean wasn’t aware of sharing. When he’d leaned in to kiss Dean, Cas was angry that Dean had questioned his sincerity, especially after he’d been so much more frank and open with Dean than he’d normally be with someone. He knew that Dean couldn’t possibly have known that though, and it had taken immense restraint to kiss him gently, showing his sincerity in a way that he hoped Dean would believe more easily than words. What he hadn’t expected was for Dean to kiss him back, much less with what felt like an apology. The other kisses they’d shared had been nearly methodical, designed to arouse and please, but this one had been nothing like that. This kiss had spoken of want and acceptance and affection in a way that Cas had honestly never experienced, and was taken aback that Dean had given it to him, and with such intensity at that. He wasn’t quite certain that Dean had meant to share all of that with him, and it had been a titanic effort to pull away from that warmth. If it had all been unintentional, there was no way he could let it go on and risk getting swept away with fantasies of feelings directed his way; Dean didn’t seem to be one to give of those freely, after all.

Then there was the way that Dean had laced their fingers together, touch so uncertain, but genuine. It almost hurt, the sweetness and tentative possibility that for once Cas might actually get something back, even if just friendship. For now though, he’d just have to be content with their arrangement and accept whatever Dean would offer him through his obedience and trust with his body.

Patience was a virtue that Cas did possess, and he had the suspicion that Dean Winchester was worth it.

 

***

 

Dean’s phone was suspiciously quiet on Sunday, considering how eager Sam and Sarah had been to push him out the door on Saturday. However, he also knew that Sam and Sarah’s work schedules hadn’t exactly been lining up recently, so there was a high likelihood that they were spending the day in bed.

Good on them, but ew, mental image.

With zero desire to look like some clingy asshole, Dean decided to hold off calling Cas until at least Tuesday, and spent most of Sunday watching a Terminator marathon and eating his way through a large pizza by himself. He absolutely did not feel a little bit pathetic about it, and certainly didn’t consider texting Cas when he found the lab result papers that they’d agreed to show each other. Instead, he contented himself with folding it up and putting it in his wallet so it wouldn’t be forgotten. Their interactions may have left him feeling unsettled, but it wasn’t in a way that had him backing off. If anything, he wanted more, but chose not to think too deeply on why; it wasn’t necessary at the moment because he knew that he’d be going back to that apartment.

By the time Monday rolled around, Dean was feeling a bit better, being in his element with his work. He’d decided that if the gallery renovation was a success, that he would invest the profits in a flip. There was an old Victorian house sitting ugly and vacant in the middle of the arts district downtown that seemed to catch his eye every time he drove past. While it wasn’t his own style, Dean wasn’t dumb; he knew that architectural history buffs were willing to shell out good money for a well-restored place like that. Hunting down the authentic period Tiffany windows and doorknobs and salvaging the original crown molding were all things that he could do, though it would be a challenge and would require some help. This is partially why he had agreed to do the gallery renovation; Dean knew that Sarah had a background in antiquities and would likely be interested in partnering up with him on the house, but didn’t want to say anything until he knew that they could work well together.  The gallery job had gone well, and Dean’s mind was now made up.

With the majority of his crew off on the other side of town working on building a small apartment complex, Dean took to the road, eager to get a better look at the property before pursuing even the first bit of paperwork or an inspection. Parking around the block, Dean walked to the house and looked around cautiously before pushing the ancient waist-high wrought iron gate open and wading through the overgrown lawn.

All thoughts of loneliness and Cas had been pushed aside as Dean took in the property with a sharp eye, noting the cracks in the foundation and sagging framework around the windows. The place was definitely not in the best shape, but at this point the only way he could really know would be to have an inspector come out. After he found out who owned the property, of course, but his office manager could do that bit of research. Reaching for his phone to call the office, he was startled when it rang in his hand, ‘Lisa’ flashing on the screen.

Before he could answer with a proper greeting, Lisa was exhaling relief into the phone.

“Oh thank god, Dean. I’m so sorry to bother you during your work, but do you have a minute?”

“It’s fine, Lis. What’s wrong, is Ben okay?”

“Yeah, he’s okay, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor? I’d do it myself, but I can’t get anyone to cover me and-“

Dean cut her off before she could work herself up too much. “What’s going on?”

Lisa took an audible breath on the other end of the line before speaking again. “Ben got sick during P.E. and managed to puke on not only himself, but some poor little girl as well. You think you could bring him some clothes and check him out?”

Dean ran a hand down his face and sighed. Not that he minded taking care of Ben so much as the fact that it entailed vomit that wasn’t contained to a toilet, and maybe Dean was secretly a little bit of a germaphobe about certain things.

“Yeah, let the school know I’m on my way, and I can be there in thirty,” he replied as he strode back toward the front lawn.

Lisa exhaled sharply. “Thank you so much, Dean, I owe you big time.”

“Not a problem,” he replied.

After a quick pit stop at Lisa’s to retrieve a fresh outfit for Ben, Dean was on his way to the school, making the necessary phone calls to his foremen to let them know he’d be indisposed for the rest of the day.

This wasn’t the first time that Dean had had to check out a sick Ben from school, so signing in with the main office checking Ben out took no time, once he arrived.  He was in no way prepared, however, for the sight that greeted him when he opened the door to the nurse’s office.

Not only was there a pitiful looking Ben, pale and hunched over in his little plastic seat and reeking even from six feet away, but on a padded bench a few feet away was…Cas. Sitting with an equally pitiful little girl.

Dean blinked, twice.

This had to be a hallucination. He stared at Cas, who was sitting there in a light blue tunic and freakin’ white yoga pants and what appeared to be a small flower chain of white clover nestled atop his locks like a crown. He looked like a grade A, granola-munching, patchouli-burning hippie, down to the thick layer of scruff, but it seemed that he looked beautiful no matter what he was wearing, including the damned flower crown. As their eyes met, Cas appeared to be just as confused as Dean, so okay, not a hallucination.

“Dean?”

Ben’s voice broke the staring contest, and Dean whipped his head over to look at the boy. “Hey, buddy, you okay? Your mom couldn’t get off of work, so I’m gonna take you home.” As an afterthought, he held the clothes out, and Ben took them wordlessly before trudging to the other side of the room to change behind the privacy screen.

Now that they had a moment, Dean looked between Cas and the little girl and back to Cas. “So uh…what are _you_ doing here, Cas?”

“Miss Izzy,” he said with a tilt of his head toward the little girl, “asked me to wait with her for her mother, and Ben looked like he could use some company as well,” Cas said as if that explained everything.

The little girl looked up at Dean’s confused frown before piping in. “We have yoga for P.E. on Mondays and Mr. Cas teaches it,” an obvious (and irritating) ‘duh’ in her tone that all nine year olds seem to master.

“I know you’ve had a bad day, but there’s no need to be rude,” Cas chided the girl gently. Izzy looked genuinely abashed to have been called out and her cheeks reddened as she looked down at her feet.

“Sorry,” she blurted, turning even redder as she glanced at Dean.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Dean smiled reassuringly. “Apology accepted.”

Izzy chanced a shy glance at Cas, who nodded approvingly at her apology. With that nod, the little girl smiled and leaned her dark, curly head against Cas’ arm, pulling a gentle smile from Cas. It was actually all kinds of adorable; Izzy clearly had a giant crush on Cas, and Dean could only think, _Me too, little girl. I know the feeling._

About this time, Ben came around from the other side of the screen, plastic bag rustling where he held the bundle of soiled clothes at his side. “How do you know Mr. Cas, Dean?” he asked, looking between the two men.

Izzy also looked up with interest. Dean saw the nurse watching as well, in his peripheral, a smirk plastered on her face.

“Mr. Cas,” Dean couldn’t fight the grin at the title, “is an artist, and I met him a few days ago at Sarah’s art gallery.”

Ben’s face screwed up in confusion. “Why? You don’t even like art.”

Cas leaned back against the wall and lifted an amused eyebrow, blue eyes trained on Dean.

“I like Cas’ art,” Dean said a little too defensively, drawing a quiet snicker from the nurse.

Ben clearly wasn’t buying it, but didn’t seem to have the energy to argue, Cas looked entirely too smug, and Dean didn’t miss the way Izzy narrowed her eyes, as if realizing the threat to who she thought was her territory. Jesus, why do kids have to be so good at making everything awkward? Clearing his throat, Dean took the bag from Ben and stood up a little straighter.

“So, you ready to go?”

Ben nodded tiredly and turned toward the bench. “Sorry I barfed on you,” he said toward Izzy, whose face scrunched up in disgust at the reminder. “See you next week, Mr. Cas,” Ben said with a little wave.

“See you next week, and I hope you get to feeling better,” Cas said with a sympathetic grin.

Dean gave Cas a pointed look to convey the extra meaning in his next words because no way was he going to reveal any more than necessary with this particular audience. “Later, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas smirked, somehow managing to keep it mostly to his eyes.

A small grin twitched at Dean’s lips before he could stop it, but Cas seemed to be the only one who noticed it, giving him a discreet wink.

 

***

 

The ride to Lisa’s was quiet, as Ben seemed to be actively concentrating on not puking in Dean’s car, which Dean greatly appreciated.

No sooner did they make it through the front door, Ben took off running for the bathroom, and Dean followed quickly behind.

They made it just in time, and Dean winced in sympathy for the boy as he wetted down a washcloth. Kneeling beside him, Dean held the folded cloth to Ben’s forehead with one hand and swept gently up and down his back with the other, hoping to ease the shivers racking his frame. Eventually his body relaxed, and they both seemed to think that he’d be okay to try and settle in on the couch. Dean retrieved Ben’s pillow and favorite blanket and tucked him in before seating himself in the recliner next to the couch and turning on the TV. Within fifteen minutes, Ben seemed to have dozed off, and Dean sighed his relief that maybe the child would be able to sleep off some of the sickness.

All illusions of playing it cool until Tuesday vanished from Dean’s mind the moment he laid eyes on Cas at the school. He knew that some of the more progressive schools offered yoga as part of their P.E. program, but it never occurred to him that Ben’s school would be one of them. Or that Cas would be comfortable with kids, which okay, was kind of hot and a bit comforting, considering that Dean had a child in his life. Pulling out his phone, Dean scrolled through his contacts, but no variation of ‘Cas’ or ‘Castiel’ was to be found. He wondered if Cas had saved the number correctly until he came across a contact that definitely hadn’t been there before and huffed as he hit ‘call’. Three rings in, Cas picked up.

“The Dread Pirate Roberts? _Really?_ ” Dean said in lieu of a greeting.

Cas laughed full and warm on the other end of the line. “Yes, really.”

Dean snorted, but kept it as quiet as he could so as not to disturb Ben.

“Well, I’m glad you’re amused,” Dean said dryly.

“Oh, I am. I rather enjoy teasing you,” Cas purred.

Dean felt a blush crawl up on his cheeks and was glad that Ben was conked out. “None of that,” he warned. “I’m still on the clock.”

“Ah. So there’s a chance that little ears might be listening, then?”

“Though I doubt it at the moment, it’s a possibility,” Dean said quietly, glancing at Ben before standing up to make his way to the kitchen.

“Snoozing child, then. Gotcha.”

Dean felt relieved that Cas seemed to understand his need to speak carefully and sighed. “So I wanted to thank you for being cool earlier.”

“It’s not a problem, Dean. Though I must say I was surprised that Ben was…your Ben. I thought he would have been a toddler,” Cas said, making it into a question.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t really make that very clear. Lisa and I had a fling years ago, but didn’t see each other again Ben was five. That was when we got together. And, well, it was a year,” Dean finished vaguely, feeling mildly uncomfortable with the topic. Before Cas could respond, Dean cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“So, care to explain the flower crown?”

Cas seemed to take the switch in stride and replied easily. “Ah, that would be Izzy. She’s rather fond of giving me flowers, and I’m not one to refuse a gift from a child.”

Dean warmed at the sentiment, because yeah, a kid gives you something, you fucking take it whether you want it or not. No need to shit on a child’s parade when they’re just trying to be nice. “She’s got a crush on you, dude,” he grinned. “Not that I can blame her,” he added.

“You’re probably right. She does seem to want my attention more often than not.” Then as if just realizing what Dean said, Cas paused. “Dean, do you have a crush on me?” he asked demurely.

Dean could easily imagine Cas batting his lashes at him and smirking with that tone.  As much he liked flirting with Cas, something about answering the question made him feel a little vulnerable because crushes are more than just attraction. He felt ridiculous for being self-conscious when they’d already established that they liked each other’s company and rubbed the back of his neck, glad that Cas couldn’t see him.

“Maybe?” he answered, more honesty in his voice than he meant to allow. Ugh, he was losing so many man points, these last few days.

Cas didn’t respond immediately, giving Dean just enough time to start regretting his response before that gravelly voice came back. “Would you like my attention tonight, Dean?” he asked suggestively, all semblance of teasing absent in his voice.

The question made Dean feel at once exposed and aroused. The question wasn’t a test or a tease, and Cas wasn’t going to reject him or think less of him for saying yes. In fact, that seemed like exactly the answer the man was hoping for, and god did Dean want Cas’ ‘attention’.

“Yeah,” he said, a bit embarrassed over the way his voice had dipped a bit, then remembered himself. “Yes, Sir,” he corrected.

Cas hummed in thought. “Six o’clock okay? I assume you’re off for the rest of the day. I’ll make dinner.”

Dean’s pulse jumped, his nerves already starting to hum in anticipation. “Sounds good. You uh…you need me to bring anything or… _do_ anything beforehand?” he asked pointedly. _Please don’t make me say anything resembling ‘prep’._

“No, nothing like that. Eventually perhaps, but not tonight.”

Dean was glad that Cas seemed to understand what he was asking, but wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved with his answer. “Alright. See you then.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

After he hung up, Dean took a deep breath and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a box of crackers and headed back out into the living room. He chided himself inwardly for wishing that Ben was awake to distract him; if he didn’t re-focus and push away thoughts of what was to come, he’d go crazy wondering what Cas had planned for the night. Time to watch some crappy daytime television, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Cas put on was "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Dean was practically vibrating with nervous energy as he pulled up to Cas’ building. Considering he only had about twenty minutes between leaving Lisa’s house and arriving at Cas’, there wasn’t quite time to get overly worked up, but enough that he could feel his heart starting to pound as he exited his car.

By the time he made it to Cas’ floor, his palms were clammy, but wiping them on his pants leg didn’t seem to help in the least. As he approached Cas’ door, he felt oddly settled by the fact that yet again he could hear music playing, but perhaps not quite as loud this time. Unsurprised that his knock went unanswered, Dean let himself in and toed off his shoes, feeling a bit less awkward about it this time. When he glanced at the little bowl on the table by the door, the flower crown had joined the dead flower, and Dean couldn’t help but grin.

The nearly raunchy-sounding crunch of the song playing through the speakers spoke enough for Cas’ mood, though the lyrics didn’t seem to be vulgar. It was vastly different from what Cas was listening to when he’d come over before, and Dean was glad that Cas didn’t seem to be setting the mood for romancing.

The second thing he noticed was the smell of food cooking. This led his eyes to sweep to the kitchen, where Cas was turned away from him, swinging his hips in a sinuous movement to the music as he tended to something at the stove. Dean was surprised to see that Cas was wearing something normal for a change, just jeans and a t-shirt and going barefoot. Granted, the jeans hung low and fitted in a way that made Dean’s eyes automatically zoom in on Cas’ ass. And the gray t-shirt was thin, clinging unfairly to the muscles of his shoulders, but still. Cas looked relaxed, so a little of Dean’s worry abated.

As Dean stepped closer, he noticed the slight curl of dark hair at the bottom of Cas’ hairline at his nape and felt an odd sort of fondness creep up. This time, Cas seemed to be completely oblivious to Dean’s presence, focused on the food and the music as he growled out the next lines in the song.

_Even in this world of lies_

_You’re still hopeful_

_Very sexy, okay okay_

The sound was downright arousing, and Dean couldn’t keep his lips to himself anymore as he stepped forward to wrap his arms around Cas’ waist and plant his lips on the skin below that little curl at his neck. Cas tensed for a moment before turning around in Dean’s arms with a smile on his face, leaning in place an open-mouthed kiss at that spot he seemed fond of on Dean’s jaw. He continued humming along softly as he sucked gently at the skin, and Dean shuddered at the vibration of Cas’ voice against his jaw.

Cas grinned at the reaction as he pulled back. “Hungry?”

"Starving,” Dean leered as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. Once he had the test result paper out, he unfolded it and handed it over.

Cas cocked an eyebrow as if to say ‘Really? Did you actually just say that?’, and shook his head with a tiny grin as he took the paper. He glanced over it quickly, and nodded, satisfied with all the negatives before pushing gently at Dean’s chest to get him to back up. “Then you’d better let me get to the oven.”

Dean made room and felt absolutely no guilt for checking out Cas’ ass again as he bent over to pull a pan of chicken out of the oven. Looking just wasn’t enough though, so when he was sure that the hot pan was safely out of Cas’ hands, Dean reached down and ran a firm hand along an ass cheek before grabbing a handful.

Cas smirked, but frustratingly didn’t otherwise respond to the touch as he plated the chicken, and that...well, that just would not do. Dean decided to try something else and got as far as placing a hand on Cas’ hip before his hand was batted away.

“Food first, Dean,” Cas grinned. “And don’t look at me like that. Pouting doesn’t suit you. Well, except for maybe your lips,” he teased.

Dean licked his lips in an exaggerated manner and Cas put on his best dry expression in an effort not to react to the almost sarcastic teasing. He’d told Dean he would have his attention tonight and was getting irritated that Dean didn’t trust that he’d get it. His non-reaction seemed to encourage Dean even more, if the smug wink he gave Cas was any indication. Dean hadn’t previously been quite so demanding and brash, and it took noticing the tight line of Dean’s shoulders and neck for Cas to realize what it was.

Dean was nervous. Of course he was, and Cas was fairly certain it was his own fault for not letting Dean know what was expected of him. Cas sighed, disappointed in himself, but determined to fix it, and reached to grip lightly at Dean’s wrist.

“There should be a few pillows around the couch. Choose one that will be comfortable for your knees, and go to the table and wait for me,” Cas said gently.

Dean seemed to relax a bit at that. “Yes, sir,” he said with a hint of a grin, before going to the living area.

Cas scraped the food from one plate onto the other and carried the heaped plate to the table along with their drinks. They managed to reach the table at the same time, and Cas seated himself as Dean dropped the pillow to the floor and knelt down beside him. Cas felt mildly disturbed that Dean had chosen to face the same direction as him, as a dog would beside their master.

“Turn around so I can see your face.”

Dean complied easily, shifting around until his shoulder was next to Cas’ knee, but kept his head down and arms behind his back. Cas was starting to gather a picture of the type of subbing Dean had done in his younger days and felt a frown creep up on his face. He knew that Dean was in a fairly common position, but it just wasn’t Cas’ style; he was fairly flexible with submissive posturing as long as the effort was made, and in this case, not all that comfortable with the idea of Dean trying to make himself look inferior.

Surely Dean realized that his submission was a gift…

“Look at me, Dean.” When those lovely green eyes raised up, there was confusion written in them. “Good. I don’t want you hiding away from me. You may also rest your hands in your lap for now, if that is more comfortable. Your choice.”

Dean’s brows knit together, but he brought his arms out slowly from behind his back as if still unsure whether his choice was okay.

Cas nodded and cut into the chicken before offering the first bite to Dean. He still looked confused, now at being offered the food, but opened up to take it. Cas felt pleased when Dean’s eyes rolled up as he chewed the bite, groaning a little around it. The moment the sound escaped, Dean paused and looked down.

“If I expected your silence, I would have told you as much,” Cas said, tipping Dean’s chin back up with two fingers. When their eyes met, the glaciers under Dean’s shoulders seemed to melt a fraction and he gave a tiny grin.

Cas took a bite before offering another to Dean. “Tell me how your day was. Did you get anything done before you had to pick up Ben?”

A small mischievous grin settled on Dean’s lips.

Cas offered a bite of sautéed green beans, which Dean seemed to enjoy almost as much as the bacon-wrapped chicken. “Christ, those are good. But anyway, there’s this old dump of a Victorian I’ve had my eye on, and I think I’m going to ask Sarah if she’d like to partner with me to restore it. If it’s done right it, we’d be able to rake in a good amount. Plus, being in the arts district, it would be advertising.”

“I think she’d be an excellent choice to partner with,” Cas agreed.

“Yeah, she’s good at what she does. Mind if we keep this between us, though?”

The request for secrecy warmed Cas, that Dean would trust him with some piece of his life. “Of course. But may I ask why it’s a secret?”

“Real estate’s a bitch. Anyone finds out I’m lookin', they could sneak it out from under me. I was actually out there taking a look at it today when I got the call to pick up Ben,” Dean said, eyes lit with excitement. “I hadn’t gotten to look up close at it til today.”

Dean’s excitement was contagious, and Cas found himself grinning as well. “Speaking of Ben, how is he?”

"Not so great. He was running a fever when I had to leave, but Lisa said he’s been battling an ear infection, so he’ll probably be fine once they can get that cleared up.”

Cas gave a small sigh as he tore off a piece of yeast roll. “Good. That’s fairly easy to treat, and not contagious.”

Dean looked at him oddly for handing him the bite of roll directly from his hand, but took it anyway, quirking an eyebrow as he allowed his tongue to sweep briefly over Cas’ finger as it pulled away. 

Cas lifted his own eyebrow, but made no comment on the silent request. Dean may be in the mood to move things along, but nothing was going to happen until Cas was good and ready. Furthermore, Dean was close, but not quite relaxed enough yet, and Cas needed him to feel comfortable with their new dynamic before doing anything else.

The two ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, Dean finally giving up on posture and leaning his shoulder against Cas’ knee. The contact was small, but the warmth radiating from Dean into Cas’ leg felt good, the show of comfort with him even better. Cas reached out and ran a hand through Dean’s hair every so often, warming a little every time Dean leaned into the touch.

“Our plate is empty,” Cas announced after a while. As if anticipating that Cas wanted to get up, Dean leaned away to give him room.

Cas rose and went back to the kitchen to pull an apple pie that he’d bought at the bakery out of the warming tray in the oven. Cutting a slice and plating it, he headed back over to the table.  After he sat the plate down, Cas dug around in his pocket. “I almost forgot,” he said, handing Dean a folded piece of paper as he sat back down.

Dean’s eyes darted almost comically between the pie and the paper before he finally reached for the paper. Dean knew it was Cas’ test results and that Cas wouldn’t be so calm about handing it over if it had any positives listed and scanned it quickly before looking back to the pie. He could feel Cas’ amused gaze on him and looked over, confirming his suspicions as the bastard smirked at him before picking up his fork and taking an impressive bite, groaning around the fork as it slid empty from his lips.

After what felt like minutes, Cas finally finished chewing and swallowed the bite. “Oh, did you want some of this? I think I recall Sarah saying something about you enjoying pie,” he said innocently. The playful gleam in his eyes completely negated the effect.

“Yes, Sir,” Dean gritted out.

Cas tilted his head in thought. “I don’t think I prefer being called Sir; makes me feel smarmy,” he said, nose scrunched in distate.

Dean knit his brows at the sudden change in topic. “What do you want me to call you then?”

Pursing his lips for a moment, Cas leaned forward and pulled something from his back pocket. Dean’s eyes tracked the movement and squirmed a bit as he saw that it was none other than the tie from Cas’ ensemble Friday night. That oh so frustrating night that awakened Dean to the beauty of Cas’ hands and the way his mouth had wrought havoc on Dean’s hands. Even now, those graceful fingers were stroking absently along the silky material of the tie. Jesus.

Cas didn’t miss the squirming, or the way Dean’s eyes darkened. Nothing had even happened yet, and Dean was already getting excited. “Stand up and strip while I think about it.”

Dean stood up so quickly that both of his knees popped- loudly- and he grunted in surprise, but didn’t wince. Not to be deterred by creaky joints, Dean made quick work of his flannel overshirt and t-shirt. Before the shirts had even hit the floor, his hands were working the buckle on his belt.

"Eager,” Cas mused, attention focused and gaze sweeping over Dean to the point that Dean wondered if Cas had forgotten about coming up with a title.

"Oh, don’t mind me. By all means,” Cas grinned as he gestured at Dean’s belt.

Dean didn’t realize that he’d paused until Cas pointed it out and flushed a bit at Cas’ obvious interest, but continued on. His hands fumbled a bit with the button and zipper as he imagined the possibilities of what Cas might intend to do, and by the time he’d kicked the jeans off, he was already half hard. Despite the fact that they’d already seen each other naked, it felt different this time, and Dean hesitated as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You can still change your mind, Dean,” Cas offered. “I’ll still want you, regardless.”

The earnestness of Cas’ tone matched the look on his face and it was confirmation enough of the goodness and patience of Cas, that Dean wanted to do it. Grinning softly to himself, Dean pushed off his underwear and removed his socks before straightening back up to full height and meeting Cas’ eyes.

“Gorgeous,” Cas breathed, devouring Dean with his eyes.

Dean knew he was attractive, but no one had ever spoken their opinion of his appearance with such reverence in their voice, and he couldn’t hold Cas’ gaze, opting instead to get back into position at Cas’ feet. The moment he was seated, Cas tapped two fingers under his chin, a silent command to lift his eyes. Once their eyes met, Cas grinned and carded his hand through Dean’s hair.

“Look at you, doing so well already. Didn’t even have to say anything and you knew what I wanted,” Cas grinned.

Praise in the name of obedience was something Dean did enjoy, and he couldn’t fight the grin at Cas’ words. The hand in his hair slid to the back of his head and gripped, hard enough to get Dean’s attention, but nothing more.

“I want you to call me by my proper name,” Cas rumbled, leaning in and resting their temples together so he could speak directly into Dean’s ear. “That’s the name I want to hear when I make you scream,” he husked, giving a sharper tug to the hair in his fingers.

Dean groaned and felt his blood rush to his cock startlingly fast at the promise in those words and a tingle zipped from scalp to tailbone at the steady pressure of Cas’ hand in his hair.

"But first,” Castiel said lightly, removing his hand slowly from Dean’s hair and leaning back, “we have pie.”

For the first time in all his pie-worshiping years, Dean found himself with no desire to eat pie and was nearly stunned at the thought. In fact, he currently wanted nothing more than to shove the goddamned cockblocking pastry to the floor and climb in Castiel’s lap and take care of matters himself. His displeasure must have shown clearly on his face, because Castiel laughed like the asshole he was, the sound rich and pleased, filling the air between them. Dean figured his frown must have deepened at this, because Castiel shook his head, a grin still on his lips.

"You actually want my cock more than pie right now, don’t you?” he asked, a mild note of surprise in his voice.

Dean hated the way his eyes automatically flicked down to look at Castiel’s crotch. He was pleased to see though, that there was an obscene bulge there and absently licked his lips. Damn straight, he wanted Cas’ cock more than pie right now. When his eyes moved back up to Castiel’s face, it was obvious that the man had gotten his answer as he grinned, a predatory thing that made his eyes glint.

“I suppose I can oblige you a little bit,” Castiel said, leaning back in his seat and setting the tie on the table. He deftly unfastened his belt buckle and had the button and zipper undone just as quickly before pulling his briefs down just enough to rest snugly beneath his balls. Then, in a totally unfair move, he stroked himself slowly, once, twice, and groaned softly before pulling his hand away to reach for the tie.

"Hands behind your back, and scoot forward a few inches,” Castiel ordered.

Dean complied quickly, but was surprised when Castiel draped the tie over his eyes, rather than getting up to bind his wrists. Why in the hell did the man bother pulling his junk out for Dean to see, if he was just going to cover Dean’s eyes up? Dean was distracted though, when he felt the cool, silky material tighten slightly against his eyelids as Castiel secured the tie at the back. Then a gentle finger ran along the edge of the material, testing that it wasn’t too tight before trailing along his cheekbone.

"I want you to breathe deeply now, and take note of everything you smell,” Castiel’s voice said quietly.

With a gentle sniff to clear his nasal passages, Dean made a pointed effort to shut everything else out and focus on his sense of smell. The first thing he smelled was the fabric softener of Castiel’s clothes, pleasant and homey. He detected the smell of the pie more faintly, as it was further away, the familiar scent of fruit and pastry and spices. Leaning against Castiel’s thigh to try and get a sharper smell of the pie, the proximity brought on a new smell and the pie was ignored for the moment as he tried to decipher this other scent. It was earthy and clean, like soap, and a tad-bit herbal, muted but pleasant, and Dean knew that he was smelling Castiel. He vaguely remembered registering previously that he liked Castiel’s scent, but now that he was forced to focus on it, it was damn near intoxicating. Castiel shifted slightly, and a muskier scent wafted past Dean’s nose, and oh god; he was smelling the man’s sex-smell.

A small choked-off noise sounded in Dean’s throat and he felt Castiel shift again, sending another wave of mouth-watering Castiel smell his way. Clearing his throat, Dean leaned back a bit, but was now certain that he knew _exactly_ where Castiel’s dick was in relation to his immediate space. Oh. That fucker. Castiel had known _exactly_ what he was doing.

The scrape of the plate being scooted across the table was a welcome distraction.

"As I’m sure you know, taste works in tandem with smell.” Castiel then paused, and Dean heard a somewhat squishy sound. “Now that your sense of smell is focused, I’m going to give you a bite, and I’d like you to describe how it tastes.”

Suddenly, the smell of apples and cinnamon was much closer, and Dean opened his mouth, knowing that the bite was in front of him. What he was surprised to find, was that it was being delivered by hand, as pie-laden fingertips touched his lips. To get the full bite, Dean had to take the fingers in his mouth and suck the gooey concoction off of them, and was pleased when he heard the small intake of Castiel’s breath before he withdrew his hand.

Chewing slowly and breathing through his nose, Dean tasted the pie much more intensely than he’d expected to, and was shocked by its sweetness.

"Cinnamon, sugar, crust, butter, apples,” Dean fired off in rapid succession.

Castiel sighed and pressed a glass of water to Dean’s lips. “Take a sip and clear your mouth, then take a moment and try again. I want you to taste it, flavor by flavor.”

"I know what goes in pie, so this isn’t really fair,” Dean grumped after he swallowed the first swig of water.

“You’re missing the point,” Castiel said, almost gruff.

Dean barely refrained from huffing as the glass was pressed to his lips again. But then he became aware of that Castiel-smell again, no doubt coming from the fingers holding the glass and swallowed the water harshly.

“I smell you,” Dean husked.

“Oh?” Castiel asked, curiosity lilting his voice.

Dean could only nod, not really sure how else to respond. Fortunately, he was saved from it by the sensation of Castiel’s fingers hovering in front of his mouth with another bite. This time, he took the bite much more slowly, hoping to illustrate his frustration by curling his tongue along the digits and down between them, sucking a little harder than necessary as he removed the bulk of the pie from them. Castiel shifted his hips and muttered a soft ‘fuck’ at the sensation as he pulled his fingers back, his breath hitching as Dean added a wicked swirl of his tongue to the pads as they withdrew.

Dean’s mind wandered as he speculated over the state of Castiel’s cock, because well…it was Right. There. Had it twitched when Dean sucked his fingers? Was pre-come beading at the top yet? Or maybe it had been already and was now leaking down the length. He wanted to know what Castiel tasted like, and how the weight of his cock on Dean’s tongue would feel. Dean clamped down hard on his left wrist as he restrained himself from reaching out and touching because despite being out of practice, he could be good for Castiel. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and stopped abruptly as it was absorbed by the tie. He chewed the pie perfunctorily, detecting a faint note of nutmeg in passing before swallowing. Pie was good, but he was certain at this moment that Castiel would be better.

"Tell me,” Castiel commanded.

“Golden Delicious, brown sugar, and nutmeg?” Dean asked, hoping his answer would be satisfactory; he suspected that Castiel had wanted details, after all.

Castiel snorted and ran his thumb along Dean’s jaw and down the side of his throat. “Excellent work, picking out the nutmeg,” Castiel said, clearly smiling. “What would you like for your reward?”

Castiel’s thumb swept back up to run feather-light along Dean’s bottom lip, and it was too much and not enough, and the words tumbled out. “I want to taste you. Please, Castiel,” he said raggedly.

“As you wish,” Castiel purred, tugging at Dean’s arms to bring them back around to his front. Then he scooted his chair around so that Dean was now kneeling directly between his knees. “But do not try to get me off; I only want you to keep my cock warm while I eat my pie. If you’re good until I’m done, I’ll let you suck me off. Understood?”

"Yes, Castiel.”

"Good. You may put your hands on my legs to keep your balance.”

Without hesitation, Dean leaned forward, his hand finding the base of Castiel’s cock with impressive precision and guided it to his lips. Flattening his tongue, Dean sunk down slowly and removed his hand. As the sensations of heat, and smooth, and bitter invaded Dean’s mouth, it took tremendous effort not to move his tongue or tighten his lips. Once he’d taken as much as he could without it touching his throat, Dean relaxed his jaw and let his hands curl around Castiel’s upper thighs.

A soft contented sigh sounded above his head before Dean heard the clink of the fork as Castiel cut off a bite of the pie. Dean wasn’t sure how Castiel was managing the self-control to eat fucking pie while he had a mouth on his dick, but the man sure as fuck deserved some kind of award for it, in Dean’s opinion. Especially considering that he didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry to finish his dessert. After a couple of minutes, Dean relaxed into it, allowing himself to enjoy the sensation of finally having Castiel’s cock where he wanted it. A bit of spit started to run out of the corner of his mouth, but Dean didn’t dare try to stop it for fear of moving his tongue too much or tightening his lips. A song had started up that held a hypnotic rhythm like a heartbeat, and after a minute he’d almost managed to zone out, even as his jaw started to ache around the girth in his mouth, the comforting smell of Castiel surrounding him. He hadn’t realized that his head had started to drop until he was startled by the sound of the fork landing on the plate with a sound of finality.

Castiel cupped his hand over the back of Dean’s neck, stroking his thumb along the soft skin behind his ear. “You enjoying yourself down there?” he asked, no mocking in his tone.

Dean opted to rub his thumb along Castiel’s inner thigh, rather than risk using his voice or nodding.

“I’m glad,” Castiel said, tightening his grip slightly. “You feel so good around me, and you’ve done so well, Dean. I’m very proud of you.”

If it could be bottled, Castiel’s warmth and sincerity in his praise could propel a thousand honor students toward 4.0’s. Dean let it wrap around him like a warm blanket and released a deep breath out through his nose.

“Would you still like to suck me off?” Castiel asked, running a hand through Dean’s hair.

Dean’s erection had calmed down into something more manageable during however long he’d been Castiel’s personal space heater, but the offer brought it back to life with a valiant twitch.

This time Dean did hum an affirmative, startling the other man with the sudden vibration, causing Castiel’s hips to jerk upward with a hissed, _Christ_. Dean knew it would happen though, and leaned back to compensate, chuckling deep in his throat at Castiel’s reaction, causing a shudder to run through the man’s body.

Dean pulled off and blew a stream of air from root to tip, ending with a puff of hot air to the head. Castiel latched his hand onto Dean’s left shoulder and hissed through his teeth with an almost pained sound. Dean squeezed at Castiel’s thigh. “Sorry, couldn’t have your nerves getting complacent,” he grinned.

Before Castiel could reply to that, Dean lowered himself back down and took as much of Castiel’s length as he could, tonguing at the vein on the underside on the way. Castiel’s thighs lifted up in jerky movement and he moaned, nice and proper this time.

"Not gonna last long, Dean,” Castiel warned unnecessarily. Dean would be more concerned if he did last, honestly, but appreciated the courtesy all the same.

Dean hummed and began to bob, sucking hard on the upstroke and alternating between tonguing at the slit and swirling his tongue around the head. Castiel panted harshly, the hand on Dean’s shoulder tightening hard enough that Dean was certain he’d have a handprint-shaped bruise by morning. He knew that Castiel was on the edge and took him as far down his throat as he could manage.

“Agh! Jesus fuck!” Castiel’s thighs trembled…and Dean swallowed around his cock.

A pained noise was ripped from Castiel’s throat as he came, shooting hot down Dean’s throat. Dean pulled back slightly and sucked Castiel through his orgasm, surprised when a small belated spurt splashed his tongue. Still, Dean laved at Castiel’s cock until it was clean and pulled off to rest his head against the man’s inner thigh as he caught his breath.

After a minute, Castiel seemed to come to his senses and removed the blindfold before he stood up on shaky legs, pulling Dean up with him before directing him into the chair. Castiel handed him the glass of water and Dean blinked hard as his eyes re-adjusted. Once the glass was drained, Castiel leaned down to retrieve a brief kiss from Dean’s tired mouth and knelt down between his legs.

“I want you to fuck my mouth, Dean,” Castiel said hoarsely.

Dean tried to make some sort of noise of acquiesce, but all that came out was a pained-sounding wheeze in his shock, as Castiel lowered his mouth over Dean’s cock. It seemed to be good enough for Castiel, though, as he grabbed Dean’s hand and placed it on the back of his head in encouragement.

The stimulation was almost too much on Dean’s cock after having been neglected for so long, but then Castiel scratched blunt nails up Dean’s inner thighs, and it felt like an electrical shock, his nerves singing. His hips bucked up of their own accord, and he felt his dick hit the back of Castiel’s throat and immediately pulled back; no one had ever let Dean do this before. Castiel practically growled around Dean’s cock, and when their eyes met, the look in Castiel’s was that of a challenge. It clicked with Dean as he remembered the same look when he’d manhandled Castiel previously, and gripped the tangle of hair under his fingers.

Dean only got maybe ten thrusts in before he felt his orgasm barreling toward him. Castiel must have known it too, because he hummed loud and deep, the vibrations rattling through Dean as if his whole body was buzzing.

“Oh my fuck! Ca-Cas…hnnng…CASTIEL!” Dean snapped his hips once more and gripped Castiel’s hair tight, before his orgasm punched through him, cock pulsing harshly as he spilled down Castiel’s throat. His vision went white around the edges, and he was certain that this was the closest he’d ever feel to floating away, his muscles going limp as his ears rung.

It could’ve been seconds or minutes later, Dean wasn’t sure, but he came back to Earth eventually to the sensation of Castiel pressing soft kisses to the skin near his mouth where he was leaned against Dean’s inner thigh. The notion was so tender after such a raw experience, and Dean felt warmth, liquid and thick like syrup spreading from his chest to his stomach. He couldn’t help but reach down and trace a finger over Castiel’s brow line, appreciating the smooth skin next to the soft hairs.

Castiel tilted his head up to look at Dean, and the affection in his eyes threatened to steal Dean’s breath. No one had ever looked at him that way, much less after doing something like giving Dean head.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel murmured.

Dean wasn’t sure what exactly he was being thanked for, but grinned softly all the same and ran a hand through the mussed, silky locks. Castiel sighed at the touch and nuzzled into Dean’s thigh for a moment before straightening up and using Dean’s thighs to lever himself up.

"Be right back,” Cas said, tucking himself back into his pants as he walked off toward the kitchen.

When he returned, he had a glass of juice in one hand and was offering Dean the other. It was a good thing he had help, because Dean’s knees protested at the shift and he probably would’ve lost his balance. Not that 30 was old, but years of sports when he was younger, and then work squatting and kneeling as needed for each construction job hadn’t been kind on Dean’s joints.

“Let’s lie down, and I’ll see what I can do for your knees,” Cas said as he tugged Dean toward the bed.

“Makin’ me feel old, dude,” Dean grumbled.

“Pffft. We’re the same age, Dean, and we are not old,” Cas said, rolling his eyes. “Now, lie down on your back, in the middle,” he said as the reached the bed.

While Dean settled, Cas dug around his night stand until he found what he was looking for, tossing a bottle of lotion onto the bed next to Dean’s hip. He got one knee up on the bed and was about to crawl up when he noticed Dean looking slightly uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong?”

A blush rose on Dean’s cheeks and he looked up at the ceiling. “Nothing, Cas.”

“I can’t provide you what you need if you don’t tell me.”

At this, Dean did look back at him. “What do you mean, providing what I need?”

"Aftercare,” Cas said slowly. When Dean’s eyes didn’t seem to register the word, Cas sighed, heart sinking for Dean. “Dean, I told you I would take care of you when you came over here, and this is part of it, if you want to avoid subdrop.”

"Oh,” Dean murmured, blush deepening at not having known this.

Rather than draw attention to it, Cas handed him the glass of juice. “Drink this; it helps replenish electrolytes. I know we’ve eaten recently, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

Dean sat up and took the glass and gulped it down, rolling it in his palms for a moment once it was empty. “Would you mind to get naked, too?” he asked quietly, eyes focused on the glass.

“I can do that,” Cas said easily, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

Dean gave a soft huff of laughter and grinned to himself.

“What?”

"Chekov,” Dean replied.

Cas snorted and pulled his shirt off. Of course Dean would make a freakin’ Star Trek reference while stark naked in bed. He mused to himself that Dean would probably make an excellent Kirk as he finished stripping, and was glad to see that Dean looked more at ease now that they were both naked.

“Alright, lie back down,” Cas nudged at Dean’s shoulder as he climbed on the bed.

Much like the last time they’d been in his bed, Cas sat down between Dean’s calves. After squirting a glob of lotion into his palm, Cas rubbed his hands, warming it up. Green eyes watched him intently, and Cas felt a small grin tug at his lips at Dean’s attention.

"I’m going to start at your hips and relax those muscles first, then I’ll work my way down to your knees.”

Cas worked carefully, kneading at the tight tissue that lay over the joint at the top of the femur, and once satisfied, spread the lotion down a bit. He rubbed with practiced pressure, pulling soft little sighs and low groans from Dean’s lips with each bit of muscle loosened. The sounds grew in volume and lowered in register as Cas relieved the pressure, Dean’s body going slowly boneless as the minutes ticked by. By the time Cas’ fingers reached Dean’s knees, the man was practically purring, contentment rolling off him like heat from a sun-warmed stone.

“I wish you’d told me you have knee problems. I wouldn’t have asked you to kneel for so long,” Cas chided. “We’ll work around it, though.”

“S’fine, Cas, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Dean slurred.

Cas pinched at Dean’s outer thigh, earning a yelp. “No, it’s not, Dean. I refuse to help you inflict long-term damage on your body.”

Dean glared at him for a moment, presumably for the pinch, before closing his eyes and sighing. “Right, orthopedist yoga instructor,” he said in an explanatory tone.

“And,” Cas drew out the word, “human being that doesn’t wish to hurt another human being in un-fun ways.”

A fond smile lit Dean’s face as he reached down to pat Cas’ hand, where it had paused its movements. “I know, Cas,”  he said, yawning at the end. “Now will you please get your ass up here? I wanted you naked for a reason.”

Cas obliged, crawling up next to Dean and nudging him to roll onto his side so he could fit himself against Dean’s back. Cas expected Dean to refuse the position, and was pleased when all he got was a half-hearted grumble about being the little spoon, even as he nestled his back in tighter to Cas’ chest. They lay wordlessly like that for several minutes, Cas’ hand spread over Dean’s stomach and pressing soft little kisses to his neck from time to time. It felt ridiculously good being pressed against the long solid line of Dean’s body, the warmth and steady breaths shifting ribs against his own. Eventually their breaths seemed to sync up, and Cas could feel sleep creeping up on him.

"Stay?” he asked quietly.

Dean twitched at the sudden sound, but didn’t immediately respond. Cas knew it might be a bit much to ask, but he was comfortable and sated and sleepy and didn’t want any part of that leave. Then he felt the harder press of Dean’s ribs against his own and the man took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay,” Dean whispered, moving his hand to rest over Cas’ and pull it up a bit higher toward his chest. “I can do that,” he said, a smile coloring his voice.

Cas grinned into Dean’s neck and slipped a thigh between Dean’s. “Goodnight, Dean.”

"Night, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song while Cas was cooking was "Yard of Blonde Girls" by Jeff Buckley, and the one that Dean zoned into while they scened was "Teardrop" by Massive Attack.


	7. Chapter 7

Cas woke slowly, consciousness coming to him in pieces. The first thing he was aware of was heat, delicious and comfortable against the front of his body. Goosebumps washed over his backside, as he noticed the stark contrast of how cold his back was, except for a nice warm spot right above his ass. Barely aware of his actions, he nestled closer into the heat, wanting it to wrap around him and let it pull him back into sleep. But then an entirely different sensation pulled at him, as his motions brought a wondrous friction to his previously unnoticed erection. Before he’d even made any conscious decision, his hips made it for him and he rocked against that heat again, and then a third time, chasing the relief that it brought. The next push of his hips was a bit more insistent though, and he became abruptly aware of his surroundings when a groan escaped his throat, surprising him into wakefulness.

Cracking an eye open, Cas was momentarily confused when he noticed that not only was he not alone in his bed, but that the other body belonged to Dean. The man was snoozing peacefully and clearly unaware of Cas practically laying on top him, much less that Cas had been humping unabashedly into his hip. Now he was able to recognize that the patch of warmth near his ass was Dean’s hand, where it had come to rest in a nearly possessive position that Cas didn’t dare let himself enjoy too much. Risking being the creeper for once between the two of them, Cas couldn’t help but take a look at the other man’s face. Certainly, Dean was beautiful in wakefulness, but in sleep, he was exquisite. Features relaxed, the man looked younger, the perpetual hint of worry pinching at his brow and eyes smoothed out; this was how Dean should always look, in Cas’ opinion. A slow smile started to spread over Cas’ face as he realized that he was so privileged to witness this because Dean had _willingly_ stayed; he hadn’t just dozed off or passed out drunk or anything that would normally find Cas waking up to a bed partner.

He figured that Dean, like most men, probably wouldn’t object to waking up to the start of something sexy, but Cas just couldn’t bring himself to do it. After all, waking someone up with a hand or a mouth to their junk seemed like kind of an intimate thing to do…something one does with a lover. And despite the small shift in their relationship- because sleeping over definitely counts as a shift- Cas just couldn’t be the one to initiate yet another step. He’d already kind of stepped in it with himself by asking Dean to stay, as it was. So with a sigh, Cas let himself take another look at that beautiful face, and decided he’d do best to take his frustrations out elsewhere. As he started to extract himself from Dean’s grasp, Cas couldn’t help the surge of affection he felt, when Dean’s hand automatically twitched and tightened momentarily on Cas’ back. Otherwise, Dean didn’t stir as Cas carefully pulled away. He knew he had no right, but Cas couldn’t resist, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss to Dean’s temple, loving how he could feel the pulse of that heartbeat against his lips.

Of course Cas knew the textbook reasons as to why humans and animals alike seek comfort in the beat of another’s heart, but the reasons always seemed insufficient in a way. There was just something so satisfying about recognizing the beat of a heart, and knowing that it signified the **life** that the muscle was sustaining. More than once, and not even in dire circumstances, the sound had nearly moved Cas to tears as he felt appreciation wash over him, for how fragile that life was and the gratitude that the steady thump-thump continued to persevere. And he was perfectly aware of what a sentimental fool that made him, but like most other things of that sort, Cas kept it to himself and only indulged in the feeling when he was in the privacy of his thoughts.

Glancing at the nightstand, the clock read 4:22 am. Dean wouldn’t need to be up to get ready for work for another hour and a half, so Cas figured he may as well take care of his emotional boner with some painting; the actual boner didn’t seem quite as important now. Careful to be quiet, he slipped on a pair of scrub pants and a t-shirt and padded over to the table where his supplies were laid out. He still needed his music to work though, so he opted for earbuds and pulled his MP3 player from its dock, slipping it into the pocket of his pants. With the gentle opening of “The Boxer” filtering through his earbuds, Cas considered the colors that he wanted to use and started to work, a sense of calm already starting to blanket him.

It wasn’t exactly a secret, but Cas also hadn’t been eager to explain that the painting he’d been working on when Dean came over the other day was actually dedicated to the man himself. While Cas had always been one to keep journals, sometimes words just weren’t enough. And in the case of Dean Winchester, Cas wanted to chronicle the man in a way that only color, tangible and unmistakable in its communication, could. Words can leave room for error when one is poorly chosen or recorded hastily, but paint is honest; it encompasses both the conscious and sub-conscious.

Losing himself in sweeps of soft oranges and deep pinks and warm yellows, Cas let his mind wander. It occurred to him that while he doesn’t make his art for enjoyment so much as for his own catharsis, that perhaps he sort of relishes when he sees someone respond to it. In some ways, he wants to be exposed through that honest paint, to be recognized and valued for who he really is beneath the veneer. But the chickenshit part of him winces at the thought of anyone actually getting that far. It’s that cowardly part of him that hides himself in plain sight, in the lines and splotches of color, begging to be understood, yet hoping to be dismissed. Or maybe it’s a sort of test, like answering a riddle to gain passage.

He’d mostly tuned out his music as his thoughts wandered, but he couldn’t help but snort when he became aware of what was currently playing.

_From the top of the first page_

_To the end of the last page_

_From the start in your own way_

_You just want somebody listening to what you say_

_It doesn’t matter who you are_

 

Christ, the timing was ridiculous. His humor faded as he stopped and listened to the rest of the song, closing his eyes and frowning as the music took him over. He didn’t realize he’d been humming along until his voice broke off in an undignified squawk as his earbud was suddenly pulled from his ear.

Eyes snapping open, Cas was greeted with the sight of Dean standing there in his boxers, scratching sleepily at his now t-shirt-covered stomach and fitting the stolen earbud into his own ear. He watched as Dean’s face went from curious to frowning in thought, and then slipping into unimpressed before he pulled the tiny speaker from his ear.

“Coldplay, Cas? Really?” Dean asked, a touch of fondness in his sleep-roughened voice.

Cas wasn’t sure whether the level of attraction he felt for that deep rumble was entirely appropriate or not.

“Identifying a Coldplay song that wasn’t released as a single? Really Dean?” Cas snarked back, removing the other earbud and shoving them both into his pocket.

At this, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, glancing away sheepishly before settling his eyes back on Cas’. “Can’t help it that Sam insists on listening to that girly crap every time I get in the car with him.”

“I wasn’t aware that genitalia was determined by a collection of sounds and rhythms. Thank you for enlightening me to the impending threat to my dick,” Cas said dryly. He wasn’t really offended at Dean’s critique of his music choices, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t point the ridiculousness of Dean’s argument for not liking something. He'd thought that Dean would at least give him an eyeroll or a scoff, but instead, the man snorted and stepped forward to pull Cas into a hug.

Dean held Cas close, wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist and nuzzling into his neck before nipping playfully at the skin beneath his ear. “Baby, the only thing _your_ dick is under threat of is getting buried so deep it never wants to come back out,” Dean murmured in Cas’ ear, voice dipping low.

“God, Dean,” Cas breathed, dick twitching happily in agreement with Dean’s words. He only vaguely registered dropping the paintbrush on the floor.

With a filthy chuckle, Dean shifted his hands to grasp at Cas’ hips and pulled back a bit, to look down between their bodies as he rocked his hips forward. “Mmmm…love feeling you get hard against me,” he said, licking his lips unconsciously as he continued looking down.

Cas knew that Dean was a forward person, but goddamn, the man was a horny bastard first thing in the morning. Good to know, then.

In a flagrant display involving a smug grin, Dean dropped to his knees directly in front of Cas and immediately reached up to palm at his length, grinning wider when it leapt under his hand. Previously-ignored arousal now making its way quickly back, Cas groaned and pushed into the touch. But then the fact that he had no idea what time it was floated unhappily into his thoughts, and he caught Dean’ wrist, halting the man’s movements. There was no telling how long he’d been painting for, but judging by how much he’d gotten done, it appeared to have been for a while.

“Work,” Cas blurted. “Don’t you need to be getting ready for work?”

Dean’s lips curled into an irritated sneer. “Really? You’ve got me on my knees ready to get you off, and you’re seriously asking me about work?”

“Your work is important, and I don’t want your business to suffer because of _morning sex_ ,” Cas huffed.

Cas knew it was the wrong thing to say, the moment he saw the look of rejection and then anger in Dean’s eyes. But then Dean looked down and nodded to himself, letting out a deep breath. “Alright then, I’ll take the burden off your shoulders. Be in the bathroom, if you need me,” he spat, pulling his feet up under him and standing up.

As much as he hated knowing that he’d managed to make Dean feel undesired, Cas equally disliked the spitefulness being aimed at him. It was completely unwarranted, considering that he was only trying to look out for Dean, and irritation that the man couldn’t see this bubbled up hot in his gut.

Before Dean could make it even a full two steps away, Cas grabbed his wrist and spun him around, pulling the taller man in. “Like hell,” Cas growled.

Dean’s mouth dropped open in surprise and Cas took advantage of it, crashing their lips together in a fierce kiss. Dean groaned as Cas’ tongue pushed into his mouth, running along the roof with deliberate pressure before swiping possessively along his teeth. Just as he started to respond though, Cas pulled back and reached down to palm at Dean’s crotch.

“Like hell,” Cas repeated, “are you going to jack off in the bathroom because you think I don’t want you.”

And before Dean could respond to that, Cas’ mouth was on him again, as were his hands as he slid them over every square inch of Dean’s body that he had reasonable access to while standing. In some sort of silent understanding, they both began to move, making their way back toward the bed, breaking the kiss to remove their shirts as they went. By the time they got to the side of the bed, Dean was completely naked and had his fingers hooked in the waistband of Cas’ pants, pulling them down hastily.

With a none-too-gentle shove to his shoulder, Dean was sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, with Cas climbing up right after him, eyes dark and predatory. Without missing a beat, Cas immediately planted his lips on Dean’s neck, mouthing and sucking his way down to Dean’s shoulder. Dean groaned at the feeling, bucking his hips up in suggestion at what he really wanted. Cas obliged easily, lowering his hips to grind harshly against Dean’s, and grunting as their erections slid together. Dean’s hands scrambled to grasp at Cas’ ass, encouraging the man to keep up the action.

“So you like feeling how hard my cock is against you, huh?” Cas husked, savoring the groan he got in response as he ground down again. “Well I’m glad, because it’s hard as fuck because of you, Dean Winchester.”

Then Cas dipped down and took one of Dean’s nipples in his mouth, sucking at the nub of flesh before teething at it gently, and reveling in the way that the man’s entire body shuddered. One of Dean’s hands came up to tangle in Cas’ hair, fingers tightening deliciously as Cas blew a stream of cool air against the spit-slickened nipple.

“Cas,” Dean moaned. “Cas, please.”

“Please, what?” Cas asked, eyebrow quirked as he moved to flick the very tip of his tongue against the other nipple.

“Unngh…fuck me,” Dean said, voice cracking at the end.

Cas rolled off of Dean to dig through the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube with a victorious ‘ha!’ before settling back on the bed. Glancing at the clock, he saw that the time was 5:32 am. The bulk of his irritation had dissipated to be replaced with want about the time he started in on the other man’s nipples, but Cas was riled up now, and they both knew it. Cas hovered over Dean yet again, but this time, the kiss he bestowed was a bit easier, and much more brief.

“As much as I’d love to, I’m not going to fuck you right now,” Cas said gently. Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Cas cut him off with a shake of his head. “I want to save that for when we have the time to do it right.” Then he looked meaningfully at the clock, so that Dean would follow his gaze. “We’ll need much longer than half an hour, for _that_.”

Cas then leaned back and pointedly flicked open the bottle of lube. “However, I can offer you the finger-fucking of your life, if you’re interested,” Cas shrugged, not even trying to hide his smirk as he watched Dean’s pupils blow wide.

“You’re goddamned right I’m interested,” Dean replied, wincing internally at how breathless and eager he sounded.

Cas laughed lightly as he scooted down the bed, a pleased sound that made Dean feel a little less self-conscious. But then Cas’ warm, steady palm was rubbing soothingly up Dean’s thigh and all embarrassment was forgotten as Cas lowered his mouth to suckle at the head of Dean’s dick, tongue darting to the slit to gather the pre-come that had beaded there. His eyes never left Dean’s, and Dean couldn’t stop the moan at the picture that Cas made, those full lips wrapped around his cock and cheeks flushed in desire.

But then he was pulling off, moving to place soft kisses to Dean’s inner thighs as one hand crept up to stroke a soothing thumb against his stomach. Dean’s legs fell open in what would have been obscene invitation, had Cas not been encouraging him to do just that. With one final kiss to the juncture of thigh and groin, Cas lifted up to retrieve the lube and drizzled a healthy amount on his fingers.

Time was precious, and Cas didn’t see fit to waste it, and immediately set to work, circling a single digit around his hole. Dean couldn’t help but clench up a bit at the sensation of the cold liquid, but Cas paid it no mind and continued to rub until Dean had relaxed enough to take the tip of his finger. His body reacted on automatic at the initial intrusion, but Cas was patient, holding still until Dean relaxed enough for him to withdraw his finger and then push back in gently, a little deeper this time. When Dean let out a stuttering breath at the burn, the hand on his stomach resumed its stroking, in time with the movement of the finger at his hole.

“Do you ever do this for yourself?” Cas asked quietly.

“Sometimes. N-not that often anymore,” Dean stuttered, as the finger pushed deeper.

Cas hummed and nodded to himself. “When was the last time?”

“Friday night,” Dean admitted, looking at the ceiling.

The steady rhythm faltered a bit, and Dean heard Cas inhale sharply, the sound drawing his eyes back down to the man. Cas’ nostrils were flared, and the finger inside Dean swirled around a bit, making his breath hitch.

“What did you think about?” Cas asked, voice a deep rumble as his rhythm quickened a bit, but not enough to satisfy the want starting to curl in Dean’s gut.

“I thought about you, dipshit,” Dean bit out impatiently, but with an unmistakable fondness laced in his tone. He remembered how Cas seemed to enjoy the dirty talk earlier though, and hoped that acquiescing would speed things along.

“I imagined you uh, pushing me face-first against the wall in the shower,” Dean broke off with a groan, when the finger suddenly pushed in all the way and crooked against his walls. He lost his train of thought for a moment when a second finger blessedly joined the first, and he cursed under his breath.

“What else?” Cas urged, pointedly mouthing up Dean’s length as he picked up the pace in encouragement.

Dean hissed at the combined sensations, hips starting to move in little circles. “You told me to spread my legs, and then knelt down and fucked me with your tongue and fingers,” he answered, voice ragged.

This time Cas joined Dean with his own moan, fingers fucking into Dean in earnest, now. “Fuck, Dean. Did you come from that image, alone?”

“Y-yeah,” Dean answered, gasping when a third finger was added. “Mmmm…fuck yeah!” He had no idea when Cas had added more lube, but it was noticeably slicker down there, and the noise as he fucked down onto Cas’ hand was positively lewd. “Harder!” he panted, hands fisted tightly in the sheets.

“Pull your knees up,” Cas ordered hoarsely.

Without hesitation, Dean complied and Cas buried his fingers to the hilt, a wicked smile spreading on his face when Dean yelped as those clever fingers struck his prostate.

Dean didn’t realize just how close he was getting until that moment and felt his body starting to shiver, as Cas made sure to hit that sweet spot every few thrusts, his own pants starting to fill the air alongside Dean’s. Looking down, he saw that Cas wasn’t even touching himself; the man was just that turned on at pleasuring Dean, and the realization had that familiar heat curling deep in his abdomen, his orgasm building steam quickly. Unballing one of his fists from the sheets, Dean reached up with the intention of fisting his cock, but Cas was quick to bat his hand away.

“You’re doing so well, Dean. Bet I can make you come untouched,” Cas murmured, lifting his eyes to meet Dean’s. “Wanna see if you can do it?”

Dean made a strangled noise in his throat and felt his ass start to clench around those talented digits, as he felt his orgasm teetering on the edge of spilling over. But then those fingers were leaving, and he cried out, abashed at the loss. Cas ignored his discontent for the moment though, and rose up to kneel, knees framing Dean’s hips.

“Hands behind your knees,” he muttered, wrapping his fingers around his own cock as Dean obeyed.

Before Dean had the chance to get too upset, Cas guided the head of his dick to rub in a firm circle around Dean’s rim, moaning loudly at the motion.

“You feel that, Dean? My dick is so wet for you, and I haven’t even touched it til now,” Cas moaned, letting the head drag against Dean’s hole with each stroke as he jacked himself hard, breaths coming harsh. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this, all laid out and open for me,” he broke off with a hiss, as his dick caught at the rim.

Much to his own amazement, Dean could feel himself getting closer with each wet nudge, Cas’ words dragging over his skin like a touch and setting his nerves ablaze. And God, was it maddening, having the very thing he wanted right fucking there, but not where he needed it.

“Goddammit Cas! Please…I’m so close,” Dean whined, feeling his hole flutter with each press of Cas’ head against it.

Cas cursed under his breath, and in a moment of weakness, caved to Dean’s request, pushing in and breaching the first ring of muscle. The sensation of that hot, smooth girth pushing in was all it took though, and Dean came with a wail of Cas’ name, his release spurting hard enough that some managed to land on his chin.

“Dean! Fuck!” Cas shouted hoarsely, his own orgasm overtaking him at the sudden clamp of Dean’s ass around his dick. It took every ounce of restraint not to just thrust the rest of the way in as Cas felt his release spill inside the other man.

Dean moaned low in his throat, squirming a bit. “God, Cas, I can feel your come,” he rasped.

Cas’ eyes screwed shut and he let out a throaty grunt as his whole body twitched when an aftershock overtook him, his cock slipping out at the movement. Every bit of restraint he’d held broke then, and he practically collapsed, landing with a thud on his back next to Dean.

A minute later, eyes still shut and focused on calming his breaths, Cas was startled when he felt a gentle hand cup his cheek and lips press chastely against his temple. His eyes flew open to see concern pulling at the lines of Dean’s mouth and those deep green eyes tracking over Cas’ face as if searching for something.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean whispered.

Why wouldn’t he be okay? Cas knew his confusion must have been written all over his face, because Dean’s brows knit even deeper. But then the hand on his face dropped to rest on his waist, and Dean used it as leverage to pull them closer together, tucking himself tightly into Cas’ side and resting his forehead against the side of Cas’ head.

“You’re shaking, baby,” Dean murmured into his ear, pecking a gentle kiss to the shell, and stroking his palm soothingly up and down Cas’ ribs.

Now that it had been pointed out, Cas became distinctly aware of the tremble in his body and swallowed thickly, his throat dry from all the panting and groaning just minutes ago. What the hell? Sure, he’d gotten off pretty hard, but shaking?

“I’m- I’m fine,” Cas blurted; his brain was still a little hung up on the fact that Dean had called him ‘baby’ not once, but twice now. And he fucking liked it. _You stupid romantic,_ he chided himself.

Dean looked unconvinced, but graciously, didn’t push it. Hell, even Cas didn’t know why he was reacting like this. Instead, Dean just kissed the corner of his mouth, letting his lips trail across his cheekbone and then down to his neck, where he finished with a lazy suckle to the skin there. By the time he felt Dean sigh against his skin, the trembling had calmed down a bit, and Cas let out a shuddering breath. A moment later, Dean chuckled quietly against the skin of Cas’ shoulder.

“Mwhat?”

“Nothing, Cas,” Dean grinned.

He knew that he really shouldn’t have been surprised at this point, but Dean still yelped at the pinch he received to his ass. “Jesus, Cas! What is it with you and the pinching?”

Cas smirked and gave an approximation of a shrug. “It’s effective.”

Dean huffed, belying the attitude by tangling his fingers in Cas’. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he acquiesced, sighing. “If you really wanna know, I was just thinking about you, is all.”

“What about me?” Cas asked curiously, rolling to face Dean and propping head up on his fist.

Reaching over, Dean ran a bold hand down Cas’ front from collarbone to navel, eyes roaming the same path as his hand, enjoying the way Cas shuddered at his touch. “Fishing for compliments, Cas?”

“Not really. Just curious to know whether that was good laughter or ‘what have I gotten myself into?’ laughter,” Cas replied calmly, even as his stomach muscles jumped when Dean touched what must have been a ticklish spot on his stomach.

Dean grinned to himself as he wondered whether his mouth would get the same reaction, and resolved that he would find out next time. “Both, maybe? I don’t know. Guess I’m just relieved, mostly.”

“Relieved? What were you concerned about?”

“I don’t even know,” Dean said tiredly. “Guess I was just thinking that I like your style,” he said, with a pointed glance at Cas’ crotch.

“Oh,” Cas replied, eyebrows rising.

“Are you really surprised?” Dean asked dryly.

“I wouldn’t say surprised. But I _was_ expecting you to be a little perturbed that you’re going to be dealing with come in your ass all day while you’re trying to work. And I’m sorry about that, by the way,” Cas said earnestly. “It’s one of the reasons I was putting off the fucking.”

What Cas _wasn’t_ expecting was the utterly filthy chuckle that his apology elicited.

“You got a few things to learn about me, Cas.” Dean said, winking as he dipped down to mouth playfully at Cas’ nipple, and chuckling again at Cas’ gasp. “Don’t apologize, alright?”

Cas blinked twice, slowly. Well that was…ridiculously arousing. His dick twitched hopelessly at the very thought of what Dean was implying. With a soft groan, he tugged Dean up for a kiss, one hand skating to Dean’s ass to feel the evidence of himself there. Dean whimpered at the sensation, but didn’t pull away.

“Dean, you’re going to kill me,” Cas murmured against his lips, seemingly unable to stop touching the slippery mess.

“But what a way to go,” Dean teased, ignoring Cas’ hand in favor of a full-body stretch. “Fortunately though, I have to get ready, so it looks like you’ll live a little longer,” he said with a lazy smile.

Oh yeah, work. Cas looked over at the clock, which read 6:18 am. At this, he bolted upward. “Shit! You’re going to be late, and here I am fondling you like a damned pervert,” he muttered, leaping off the bed to find a pair of boxers and yanking them on.

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine, Cas. Chill out, man. I’m the boss, remember?” Dean said with an amused little grin, seemingly unconcerned as he lumbered toward the bathroom. “Besides, I think we’re both probably perverts,” he said, smile obvious in his voice, despite the bathroom door muffling it.

Cas padded to the kitchen and washed his hands before starting a pot of coffee, figuring it was the least he could do, Dean’s laid-back attitude be damned. Once that was done, he poured himself a glass of water and sipped on it as he leaned against the counter. As the bubble and hiss of the coffee maker droned on, Cas started to zone out, the early hour and morning’s activities starting to catch up with him. Normally, he wouldn’t be up for another three hours on a weekday, and he’d already had an internal monologue, painted, had some rather intense sex, and conversed; it was exhausting. He distantly registered the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing and Dean puttering about, but didn’t look up until Dean came to lean against the counter next to him, bumping his shoulder against Cas’.

“What’s up?” Dean asked, snagging the water from Cas’ hand and taking a swig.

Cas reached for Dean’s empty hand and rubbed against the pulse point, almost an automatic gesture, now. “Nothing, just tired. Would you mind to call me sometime today when you have a chance, though?”

Dean raised a brow. “Okaaaay.”

“Just…humor me, alright? I swear I’m not being creepy. It would just make me feel better if I know you’re feeling alright, after last night,” Cas said, pleading with his eyes for Dean to understand that he really wasn’t trying to be clingy; lord knows he didn’t want to scare Dean off, and clinginess seemed like something that would probably do exactly that.

Dean looked a little worried, but nodded all the same. “Alright, I’ll call you.” Then he paused and turned his hand over to fit into Cas’ and squeezed briefly. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas replied, knowing how unconvincing he sounded. Yeah, he felt a bit off, but that was to be expected after waking up at the ass-crack of dawn with feelings and then sex, right? He always felt a bit vulnerable in the mornings, and this morning had been full of all kinds of things that he normally didn’t deal with quite so early, and before caffeine, no less.

Instead of looking at the frown that he knew was probably on Dean’s face, Cas busied himself with pulling down a travel mug and pouring up some coffee for Dean to take with him. As he was reaching for the lid, he felt a hesitant hand come to rest on his lower back. As much as Cas had started to get used to the fact that Dean was warming up to hand-holding, he was abruptly reminded that Dean was still testing out other intimate touches that were unrelated to sex and Cas’ heart swelled a little bit at the effort the other man was making.

Without having sorted himself out yet, Cas really couldn’t offer any useful words to smooth out the wrinkle between Dean’s brows, so he chose instead to go with the next best thing. Turning to fully face the other man, Cas cupped Dean’s jaw and spoke his reassurance through the press of his lips. Dean hummed a soft little sound into the kiss, and Cas knew that he’d been understood and pulled back, thumb stroking Dean’s cheekbone.

When their eyes met, Dean gave a little nod. “Okay,” he murmured.

A small grin formed on Cas’ lips at that, and he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss, this time with gratitude, though it only lasted for a moment before it dissolved into the two of them just smiling against each other’s mouths. Pulling back, Cas was amused to see a faint blush dusting Dean’s cheeks, but decided to be kind about it and not say anything.

“Here,” Cas said, grabbing the travel mug and holding it out. “You’d better get going.”

“Yes, dear,” he smirked as he grabbed for the mug.

At Cas’ dry look, Dean laughed lightly and winked. “Later, Cas.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas said with a fond eyeroll.

And with that, Dean was out the door. As he made his way to work, he couldn’t help but wonder what was up with Cas. Something was off, though the possibilities were endless as to what it could be. Maybe the man really was just tired. Or perhaps he had something unrelated on his mind; it’s not like Dean would really know, considering that he was a relative outsider to Cas’ world. But then something occurred to Dean that left him feeling horrified with himself. What if he’d freaked Cas out with his blatant display of horniness, especially after that painfully sweet kiss to his temple that Dean had pretended not to be awake for? Dean let out a deep breath of irritation with himself because once again, he’d acted like a complete jackass. The guy was painting what reminded Dean of a sunrise and listening to Coldplay for god’s sake, and Dean just waltzed right up like the insensitive fucktruck that he was, demanding sex. Regardless of the nature of their relationship, Dean genuinely liked Cas, and why for the love of all that was pure and holy, could Dean not manage to refrain from acting like some Neanderthal?

But maybe he should cut himself a little slack, because the sincerity of Cas’ reassurance in that kiss had been obvious. Plus, there was the fact that not only had Cas seemed to immensely enjoy himself that morning to the point of freakin' shaking, but he’d even asked Dean to call him later in the day. Still though, the fact remained that Dean was fairly certain that none of that made up for his overall behavior, and he needed to do something to prove to the both of them that he was capable of being a decent human being.

When the solution dawned on him, Dean almost felt stupid, because it was just so simple; all he needed to do was stick to their arrangement. His Dom had proven that he could fill the role, though much gentler than Dean was used to, and Dean needed to just let the man do it, instead of trying to improvise on his own. And if at some point Cas decided to initiate vanilla sexy times, then that would have to be all on him. Cas was good and patient and interesting and all the things that Dean wasn’t, and for whatever reason, had decided that he wanted to share himself with Dean; the least he could do was try and not be a humongous disappointment to Cas’ expectations. Yes, from here on out, Dean would be good for Cas.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song Cas was listening to as he started to paint was "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel. The Coldplay song was "Square One".


	8. Chapter 8

Other than a little tenderness, Dean’s workday went well. He called Cas as promised, and was somewhat surprised that Cas sounded like he was back to normal, if not a bit relieved to hear that Dean was doing well. They didn’t have long to speak, as Dean was on his lunch and Cas was about to start another class, but just those few minutes of hearing that gravelly voice left Dean’s stomach swirling with butterflies and a stupid grin on his face. Unfortunately, he didn’t manage to wipe it off in time before Sarah arrived for their lunch meeting at the park and when their eyes met, Dean could see the skepticism written on her face.

“So, are you going to tell me who you’re mooning over?” she asked neutrally as she sat on the other side of the picnic table.

And Dean supposed it made sense; Cas was her friend, so of course she might be a little protective over him. Sarah knew as well as anyone that Dean had a tendency to hop from bed to bed in clusters and then not sleep with anyone for months. He wanted to reassure her, but still…he was not ‘mooning’.

“I’m not mooning,” he said gruffly, sliding a salad container across the table to her.

Sarah didn’t respond except to fold her arms over her chest and give him a dry look.

“And I actually wanted to talk shop,” Dean said into his sandwich. When he looked up, her arms hadn’t budged, but her interest was piqued.

“Okay, but not until you tell me how it went with Castiel,” Sarah said, a small victorious smirk on her face. They both knew she wouldn’t let it go.

Dean absently reached up to rub at his shoulder, where he’d been pleased to see that morning that Cas’ hand had indeed left a bruise. Five fingertip-shaped bruises, to be precise. When he realized what he was doing, Dean dropped his hand and made a strong effort to ignore the feeling of Cas’ mark on him.

“It went well. He’s a cool guy,” he said, carefully schooling his features. God, but he didn’t know how to answer the inevitable questions that were coming his way.

Sarah glanced impatiently at her watch before dumping the dressing on her salad and starting to stir it all up.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I already knew that, so stop bullshitting, Dean. I don’t need the sordid details, just…throw me a bone here.”

“Jesus, fine. I like him, okay? And stop making that face, I’m not playing him or anything. We’re just kind of playing it by ear, alright?” Dean felt a brief flash of panic when Sarah glanced at his shoulder and irrationally, he was certain she could see through his shirt. But then he realized that she had looked because he was rubbing at his shoulder again.

Sarah’s eyes softened and a small smile appeared on her lips. “Alright. Now, what’s this business you wanted to discuss?”

Dean was relieved that she didn’t push it any farther, but the look on her face said that she didn’t need to; she’d gotten what she wanted for now. Moving on to discuss the Victorian, Dean was pleased when Sarah emphatically agreed to work on it with him, and didn’t bother to wipe the smile off his face at her excitement to get it going.

When Dean got back in his car to head back to the job site he’d been working, he pulled out his phone, ready to text Cas and share the news. He paused over the send button, though. A second communication in less than an hour might seem a bit…clingy, regardless of whether the earlier call had been requested. Shaking his head at himself, Dean deleted the message and pocketed his phone again before starting the car. Sure, he’d share the news next time he saw Cas, but there was no sense in bothering the man unnecessarily. Besides, Cas had probably just been listening to him ramble about the house out of politeness; it had only been light dinner conversation, even if he was being handfed on his knees at the time.

The memory stirred something warm in Dean’s gut as he thought back to the night before. He’d been caught off guard, first by Cas’ kind treatment toward him, and then by how good it felt. For the first time in many years, Dean had felt cared for without the need to fight it. He’d relished it, in fact, that Cas seemed to actually enjoy taking care of him. It made sense, considering that Cas was a ‘doctor’ without patients, and with that thought, Dean felt a bit of sadness for his friend. Cas probably would’ve made an excellent healer, even though he’d admitted that medicine hadn’t been his choice at the beginning, and Dean wondered briefly what Cas had really wanted to do before being shuffled into medical school.

Dean chose not to linger on these thoughts because he had the feeling that Cas wouldn’t appreciate anything resembling pity being aimed at him. Instead, he thought about the sexier parts of the evening and remembered the way Cas had asked him to take advantage of his mouth and the way he’d thanked Dean afterward. What the hell had that been about, anyway? No Dom had ever thanked Dean for anything, much less got on their knees for him like that. It takes a shit-ton of trust to allow someone to do that, and Dean felt his pulse pick up and blood warm at the thought.

Before he could delve too deeply into why satisfaction had started to curl inside him like a cat winding around his ankles, Dean had pulled back up to work and had to put those thoughts away. Time to put his Boss Man hat back on.

 

***

The next few days had been fairly exhausting, but in the good way, when one knows that they’ve been productive. He’d been coming home and showering perfunctorily before eating whatever could be thrown in the microwave and then promptly collapsing in the bed until his alarm went off at 5:00 each morning. Thoughts of Cas meandered in from time to time, but the longer he went without talking to him, the more awkward it felt to think of calling. By the time Friday came around and Cas hadn’t called him either, Dean had waffled about it enough that he’d managed to convince himself that Cas just hadn’t wanted to talk to him. The man _had_ been off the other morning, so Dean resolved that he’d just give Cas some space, even if Dean did hear a suspiciously Sam-like voice in his head calling him a chickenshit.

Still though, Dean’s day was going well, even with the undercurrent of anxiety that was far too familiar to think twice about. By the end of the day, his office manager had pulled together all the information on the Victorian, and much to Dean’s delight, it was indeed for sale. Eager to get the ball rolling, Dean called up the phone number attached when he got back to the office.

“Hi, this is Dean Winchester, and I’m looking for Anna Milton?”

“May I ask what this is in regard to?” The woman’s voice was soft, but not timid.

“Well, I believe she owns a property that I’m interested in and was hoping to speak to her about it,” Dean said cautiously. He wasn’t kidding when he said real estate was a bitch, and wasn’t fond of going into detail until he knew he was speaking with the right person.

The woman made a surprised ‘oh’ sound and cleared her throat, voice coming back a bit stronger than before. “This is she. What would you like to know about it?”

“Well, I’m actually here in town, and was hoping maybe we could meet for lunch one day, so we could discuss it in person.”

There was a pause that dragged on for so long, Dean pulled his phone away, thinking the call had been dropped. When he saw that the call timer was still going he pulled it quickly back up to his ear just in time to hear Anna speak.

“Okay. Um, what about today, actually? If that’s alright? I mean, if you’re not busy, we could talk over a bite to eat.”

Dean glanced at his watch. It was almost five, but he needed a minute to look more thoroughly over the papers he’d been given.

“Sounds great. How about Zazu’s, in about an hour?”

“I can do Zazu’s,” Anna said, sounding a little perkier.

“Alright then. I’ll be in a black ’67 Impala, so I’ll be kind of hard to miss,” Dean grinned, starting to get excited.

Anna laughed lightly on the other end. “I have bright red hair, so I’m also hard to miss.”

Dean and Anna exchanged goodbyes and hung up soon after. The next 45 minutes flew by as Dean looked through the stack of papers his office manager had printed off with all of the information on the house and scribbled notes on post-its as he went. It was mostly just luck that he happened to look at his watch when he did, seeing that it was time to go.

Pulling up to Zazu’s, Dean knew it was Anna, the moment he laid eyes on her standing by the entrance. He smirked to himself as he noted that she hadn’t been kidding about the hair. When he exited the car and got a good look at her though, his smirk faltered. She was ethereally beautiful, but her large doe-eyes held a sadness that spoke of old grief.

“Anna?” he asked as he stepped up to her.

She gave him a smile that would have been dazzling, had it reached her eyes, and held out a dainty hand.

“Dean, I assume.”

Dean grinned and took her hand, mindful of his grip; it was true that he really didn’t know his own strength and had had more than one woman wince at his touch. Anna had a surprisingly strong grip though, for which Dean was thankful.

“Well, I’m starving,” he said, opening the door for her.

Anna nodded her thanks as she passed him and they made some semi-awkward small talk as they waited their turns in line at the little eatery, Dean falling in line behind her. Considering it was the beginning of the dinner rush, the place was crowded and noisy, a combination that always made Dean feels a little anxious. He glanced around, pre-emptively looking for a table where they could have a little more quiet, but the only two left in his line of sight were one whose availability was dubious due to a single drink cup on it, and another that was right in the middle of everything. Great.

When Dean turned around, a woman with an enormous purse was chatting loudly into her Bluetooth and not paying an ounce of attention to her surroundings as she elbowed through the crowd. If Dean’s calculations were correct, she would likely barrel right over Anna, so he placed a polite hand to the small of her back and guided her aside to avoid the collision. She smiled gratefully at him before moving up to the counter, ready to place her order.

The table situation still hadn’t improved, and Dean groaned out loud as he made his way over to the table that Anna had managed to snag, wondering why in the hell he’d let his stomach determine the restaurant. The place was always busy, but damned if he hadn’t wanted one of their wraps.

***

Cas stabbed a piece of chicken in his bowl with more force than was strictly necessary and grimaced when we heard the snap of one of the tines on the plastic fork. He had no right, and he knew it, which made him even more irritated. He’d never really been inclined toward jealousy, and it was unsettling to feel it now, when nothing substantial was even really happening.

Rationally, Cas knew that he and Dean weren’t technically dating, but rationality didn’t seem to be communicating with the hairs that prickled on the back of his neck as he watched Dean put his hand on that woman’s back. And never mind that Dean hadn’t called him again or even sent a text. Clearly, the man was doing just fine though, if the smile he offered to the woman as he sat down was any indication.

 _Get a grip. He’s got a folder, so it’s probably just a business thing,_ Cas chided himself. He knew it was probably about ten different kinds of creepy watching Dean from a distance without the man’s knowledge, but Cas was also pretty sure that it would be inappropriate to go over there if it really was business. But what if Dean looked over and noticed him? Cas had just sat down with his food when he saw Dean walk in, so he’d had plenty of opportunity to say something but had instead chosen to watch the man like some stalker. But really, it made sense that he would want to get a glimpse of what Dean was like when he was out and about and away from Cas, right? It was research, that’s all. Yes, research.

Satisfied with his justification, Cas nodded to himself and took the bite of chicken, broken tine be damned, and contented himself with only looking up every few bites instead of just staring. After a couple of minutes, the jealousy had calmed down, as he realized that nothing untoward was happening; Dean was just talking and eating, nothing more. But then the jealousy flared right back up when he watched Dean lean into the table and pat the woman’s shoulder, expression completely attentive as she spoke. Even though Cas could identify a sympathetic gesture when he saw one, it didn’t stop the hairs from prickling back up on his neck like an agitated cat.

One moment, he was sitting at his table, and the next he was hovering awkwardly at Dean’s, food and drink in hand and not remembering walking over there. When Dean looked up, his expression went quickly from surprised to pleased, and then to something unidentifiable that had a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Cas muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed now. “Am I interrupting? I’m being rude, aren’t I?”

Jesus, what had possessed him to think that coming over was a good idea? Cas was just about to shuffle away when Dean caught his wrist in a light grip.

“No, man, not at all,” Dean said with a small grin. “Cas, this is Anna. She owns the Victorian I was telling you about.”

Yep, he’d definitely been an idiot. But it couldn’t be too bad; Dean was still holding his wrist, even as he turned to look at Anna.

“Anna, this is my friend, Castiel,” Dean said, unconsciously tightening his fingers a bit.

Cas felt a little twinge at just being Dean’s ‘friend’, but quashed it quickly because he knew there was no better term that Dean could use for their…thing, in polite company.

“Nice to meet you, Castiel. After the angel, I presume?” Anna asked.

He was honestly surprised by the question, as the angel he was named after was fairly obscure. Dean looked up at him curiously, and Cas felt it was safe to assume that his presence was welcome enough to sit down on Dean’s right.

“Yes, actually,” Cas said.

“Angel of what?” Dean asked, when Cas didn’t elaborate.

Cas sighed because he knew how it was going to sound. People always like to read into name meanings. “The angel of solitude and tears.”

Sure enough, Dean gave him a funny look, but Anna only drew her lips into a thin line. But then Dean surprised him and hooked their ankles together under the table and gave Cas a questioning glance, as if he were asking if it was okay. Considering that he’d been introduced simply as Dean’s friend, Cas didn’t want to be obvious, so he chose to put his hand on Dean’s knee underneath the table. Dean seemed to relax a bit at the touch and unconsciously leaned closer toward Cas; it was more gratifying than he wanted to admit.

As it turned out, Anna was torn about selling the house because it had belonged to her grandmother and been passed down to her father. He’d had ideas about doing something with it for years, but his work as a reverend at one of the local churches had kept him too busy to follow through. When her parents were murdered in their home a little over a year ago in a home invasion, the Victorian had been left to Anna. She’d wanted to fix it up to honor her father, but renovating a house like that was just too expensive for her budget. Anna didn’t want to get rid of the house because of its sentimental value, but the longer it sat, the more of a problem it would become.

Dean understood that far too well, imagining what it would feel like if the Impala were sitting around rusting and he didn’t have the resources to fix it.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’d do most of the work myself, along with a friend that has experience in antiquities that would help make it an authentic restoration, not just a renovation,” Dean said reassuringly. “In fact, this friend and I just finished a restoration last week with the Midtown Gallery.”

“Oh! That was you? I was just there the other day...you did a lovely job. The place has a kind of homey feeling, but like it’s a home for the art? I don’t know if that makes sense, but the art doesn’t look like it’s on display so much, as if it’s just meant to be there. Like the walls were made for holding it,” Anna mused.

Cas squirmed a little in his seat as he felt a blush rise up on his cheeks; he knew that a good portion of his paintings were still on display that hadn’t been shipped off or picked up their buyers just yet. It touched a dangerously gooey spot in his brain to hear someone say that his work looked natural being housed within Dean’s and he didn’t quite know what to do with that. Dean must have sensed it because he looked over and gave Cas a lopsided, but brief smile that burned Cas’ cheeks even hotter before he turned back to Anna.

“Thanks,” Dean said with a shyer smile. “It did turn out pretty kick-ass, huh?” he asked, glancing from Anna to Cas.

Dammit, that little smile was doing things to Cas, along with the fact that there had been a subtle tone of genuine want for approval in his question. The realization was a bit jarring, even though Cas was well aware of Dean’s self-esteem issue; he just hadn’t imagined that Dean would care about Cas’ approval outside of the bedroom.

“Yeah, it did. You’d never know that the place was nearly in ruins before you got your hands on it,” Cas said earnestly.

They held eye contact for what was probably a bit longer than was strictly appropriate, but neither seemed to be able to look away as Dean searched for honesty and Cas looked on in awe. Finally, Dean broke it off with a ghost of a smile as he reached for his drink. If Anna noticed the little moment, she kept it to herself when she spoke.

“Are you wanting to keep it or sell it, if I might ask?”

“I intended on selling it,” Dean admitted honestly.

Anna nodded thoughtfully.

“If I sell you this house, I need to know that when you’re done fixing it, that you aren’t going to sell it off to just anyone. I want it to go to someone who really loves it, you know? Maybe that’s foolish, but…well, I have a lot of memories in that place from when I was little.”

Dean wished he could promise her that, but frankly, this was business, and Dean was in the business of getting a solid return on his investment. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a little picky though, did it? After all, he didn’t like the idea of putting so much work into it and then selling it off to someone who would just rip everything up like he’d never been there. It was selfish and unprofessional, and he knew he couldn’t let himself get attached that way. He also knew that he’d taken too long to answer when Anna pursed her lips.

Fortunately, Cas seemed to know that Dean was drowning and threw out a life preserver.

“I don’t think you’d have to worry about that,” Cas began carefully. “Realistically, anyone interested in buying a painstakingly restored Victorian in the middle of the arts district would know and respect its historical value, even if not its personal value. I doubt that someone would make that sort of investment without a deep desire for that specific property,” Cas said calmly. “I mean, most people don’t buy a house unless it resonates with them in some way, right?”

Anna relaxed in her seat a bit and sighed. “You’re probably right. It would suit a specific kind of taste between the style and location, wouldn’t it?” she offered with a small grin.

Dean knocked his knee against Cas’ in thanks. “Yeah, I think Cas makes a good point. But look, I don’t want to pressure you, so just think about it and get back to me, alright?”

They were all pretty much done with their food anyway, so Dean figured it was a good place to wrap up the conversation, and Cas and Anna seemed to agree as they all started cleaning up their stuff to get ready to leave. Dean and Cas both decided to take home their leftovers, and Dean swiped both containers and his folder up as they made for the exit. Cas looked at him curiously for the epic ‘boyfriend move’, but Dean steadfastly ignored it. Once they were all outside, Anna leaned in for a one-armed hug that raised Cas’ hackles again.

“It was nice to meet you both, and I’ll give you a call one way or another,” she said warmly.

“Oh, hang on, let me get you a card,” Dean said, awkwardly shuffling the containers.

Without thinking it through, Cas beat him to it and reached into Dean’s back pocket and pulled out his wallet, sifting through it until he found a business card. He held it out between two fingers for Anna, who looked between them and smirked as she took it. With that smirk, Cas realized exactly what he’d done and prayed that a hole would open up in the ground and swallow him.

“Thanks, Castiel,” she said, then turned to Dean and nodded. “Dean. You boys have a good weekend,” she said, still smirking, before turning to go to her own car.

Cas was mortified at his own behavior and looked down, realizing he was still holding Dean’s wallet. Fucking hell, why did he have to do that? Going through a man’s wallet is the equivalent of going through a woman’s purse: something only those that are very close to the person are allowed to do. With a heavy sigh, he replaced the wallet and chanced a glance up. The anger he’d expected to see there was completely absent and in its place was confused amusement. Still, though.

“Sorry,” Cas murmured. “That was completely inappropriate, and I wasn’t thinking, and I’m sorry.”

Dean snorted and shook his head with a small grin on his face. “I can’t believe you were jealous,” he said. Cas opened his mouth to try and refute Dean’s point, but Dean chuckled lightly and started walking toward his car. “Don’t even, Cas. You practically pissed a circle around me, dude.”

Cas followed him and grabbed his container out of Dean’s hands when they got to the car. Dean didn’t seem angry, but Cas was still uneasy and confused. “I really am sorry, Dean. I swear I’ve never done anything like that before.”

With a sigh, Dean fished around his pocket and pulled out his keys. If they were going to talk, he didn’t want to do it in a parking lot. “You have anywhere to be?”

“No. I was just too lazy to cook tonight,” Cas said, an adorable frown pinching his eyebrows.

“Get in the car, then,” Dean said with a tilt of his head toward the passenger side.

Cas hesitated for a moment before going around and getting in the car. Once they were buckled and settled, they both turned to look at each other, Cas fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

“Look, Cas. I’m not mad. Just caught me off guard, is all. I mean, you were kind of off the other morning and we haven’t talked in a few days, so I thought that maybe you were regretting, you know,” Dean said, gesturing between them.

“Oh,” Cas said, brows rising. “No, I’m not regretting, are you regretting?”

“No, I’m not,” Dean admitted, fingers flexing around the steering wheel.

“Alright, then,” Cas said with a nod.

“Okay,” Dean said, mirroring the motion.

An awkward silence fell between them, both men perfectly aware that they’d only touched on the real issue, but not quite sure where they should go from there. Finally, Cas broke the silence.

“I haven’t been avoiding you, you know. I just figured that you’d call me if you, uh, _needed_ me,” he said pointedly.

Dean sighed and tapped his fingers on the wheel, jaw ticking as he thought. “What if I need you tonight?” he asked quietly, eyes on the dashboard and blush rising to his cheeks.

Cas wiggled as far left as the seatbelt buckle would allow and laid his hand high on Dean’s thigh, where Dean had requested it the one night. “Okay.”

Dean let out a breath through his nose and started the car. When they got on the road, Cas nearly startled when Dean’s hand came down to rest on his own, where it was still on Dean’s thigh. The man didn’t seem upset, but he also didn’t seem to want to talk, so Cas relaxed into his seat and privately freaked out in the safety of his own head. They weren’t dating, so Dean should’ve at least been a little irritated over Cas’ little display, right? But he wasn’t. If anything, Dean had seemed relieved to have Cas there. Did Dean actually feel _better_ with Cas’ jealousy?

As soon as the thought popped in, Cas’ brain nearly short-circuited. Dean had enjoyed being claimed. Holy hell, what did that even mean? Dean hadn’t exactly offered much in the conversation a minute ago in the way of his own feelings on things, so Cas really didn’t want to read too much into it. It was difficult though, because his thoughts immediately wanted to stray into warm-fuzzy territory, where things like dates and clothes-sharing and wanting approval live.

Nope. Not going there. Not yet, anyway.

This was about Dean, and what Dean seemed to need right now was to feel reassured of his place. Cas made a note to himself that he probably needed to call or text at least every other day, but for now, he had a better idea. He needed to ask a few questions before he said anything, but at least he had an idea of what to do.

When they arrived at Cas’ building, he automatically reached for Dean’s hand once they were inside and was pleased to feel those strong fingers clasp his own without hesitation. Just like that first night, they didn’t speak a word until they got to his door. Once they were inside, Dean shucked his shoes and jacket before moving on to stripping down. He only made it as far as his shirts.

The moment Cas realized that Dean was ready to get right to it, he reached out and laid a hand on Dean’s wrist before the man could get his belt buckle undone. Dean looked up, confused.

“Hang on a second. I want to talk to you for a minute before we begin anything. Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll be right back,” Cas said, rubbing his thumb on Dean’s wrist. Like a Pavlovian response, that thumb-rub automatically soothed him and Dean did as he was asked.

Cas walked over to his nightstand and rummaged around the bottom drawer until he found what he was looking for and slipped it into his pocket. Then he went straight to the fridge and pulled out a couple of sodas before making his way over to the couch, handing one off to Dean as he passed. Dean opened his instantly and took a swig before leaning over to put it on the coffee table, and that’s when Cas noticed it; he probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been standing.

Taking a step closer, Cas traced gentle fingers over nearly-faded bruises on Dean’s shoulder that made the man shiver. Dean looked up with a smirk, but didn’t comment, content to watch Cas’ face as he explored Dean’s skin. Cas spread his fingers until the bruises aligned perfectly with his own fingertips, and his breath caught in his throat when he looked back at Dean’s face for confirmation of the question he hadn’t asked; not only had the smirk deepened, but his eyes had darkened as well.

“Do you like this?” Cas asked, voice already starting to turn husky. “You like carrying my marks?”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, shifting a little in his seat.

Cas nodded and sat down, feeling much more confident with his idea now.

“I’m going to ask you something, and please be honest with your answer,” Cas said seriously.

“Okay,” Dean said slowly.

“ _Why_ do you like it?” Cas asked neutrally, nodding his head toward Dean’s shoulder.

Almost instantaneously, a blush worked its way up Dean’s neck and onto his face. He reached up a hand to rub at the back of his neck and looked away as he considered his answer.

“I- I guess I’ve always kind of had a thing with marking,” Dean shrugged. “Seeing it days later, like a souvenir to remind me that the person really was there.”

Cas understood the various reasons that people favor marking, but he’d wanted to hear it from Dean’s mouth and heard the implication behind the answer clear as day. ‘Proof that I was wanted’. Cas pulled Dean’s hand into his lap and traced the delicate bones on top before running his fingers over the knuckles.

“I have something for you, but it is completely up to you whether you take it and I won’t be offended if you say no,” Cas said, reaching into his pocket.

When he unfolded his hand, there was a simple brown leather bracelet resting in his palm. There was something stamped into the band, but Dean couldn’t make it out and picked it up to eye it more closely. Now he could see that it was a single word, written in Hebrew.

“What does it say?” Dean asked curiously.

“It’s my name, in Hebrew. The angel I was named after is one of the seven archangels in the Kabbalah, so…Hebrew,” Cas shrugged, pointing at the bracelet. “I made it while I was in Spain, incidentally,” he said absently.

It took a moment of turning it around in his fingers before Dean realized that Cas wasn’t offering it in the way that one would present a gift, and that he’d said that Dean could refuse it if he wanted. When the meaning dawned on him, Dean’s eyes went wide and his heart slammed behind his ribs.

“Cas,” Dean asked softly, “is this…are you asking me to wear this like a collar?”

“No, I’m not asking you to. It’s completely your choice. I just figured you might would appreciate the bracelet as a…trial of sorts, and it can be worn in public if you wanted to, without attracting attention,” Cas offered, careful to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

Dean swallowed and looked down at the strip of leather. It was only maybe 3/4 of an inch wide and the ends had silver clasps attached that would interlock to lie flat with the rest of the bracelet. In his (albeit minimal) experience, collars had appeared to be more of a kink thing with people being led around like dogs, but Cas seemed to be offering it with affection, not as an act of degradation. It was almost…humble, the way Cas was willing to accept Dean’s ‘no’, if he chose to refuse the bracelet. Almost like it would be a privilege for Cas if Dean wore it. And damned if that didn’t make Dean’s world tilt a little bit.

Truthfully, as much as it scared him, Dean knew deep down that he’d felt more balanced after Cas showed up at dinner, and he even fucking liked it when Cas got all territorial. He’d had women get jealous before, but they’d always ended up trying to control him in their jealousy and he’d left before they could sink their claws in. Cas though…Cas was different. Always giving him a choice. And really, hadn’t he already given himself to Cas, in a way? Now he would just have Cas’ name there with him to remind him.

With a nod to himself, Dean handed the bracelet back to Cas. Dean saw the flicker of hurt behind his eyes, until the man looked down and realized that Dean still had his hand extended, wrist up. Dean gave him a small smile.

“Go ahead, Castiel,” Dean murmured, smile growing.

A wide, genuine smile swept across Cas’ face that had Dean feeling a little taken aback at being the one responsible for it. Cas quickly secured the clasps and ran a reverent thumb over the leather. “Thank you,” he said, almost shyly.

Dean’s heart swelled as he could practically see the affection rolling off of Cas. He felt cherished in a way that not even his own mother had been able to pull off because this wasn’t linked to any sense of familial obligation; Cas just wanted him all on his own, and the thought left Dean swallowing thickly. Cas was looking at him with those giant blue eyes, and Dean knew he wasn’t doing much better himself and chuckled, because they probably looked like a couple of Precious Moments dolls and the tension needed to thin out like yesterday.

“So, uh, I’ll just bring my letter jacket and class ring tomorrow, and- ow!” Dean’s teasing got cut off by a playful pinch to his nipple and Cas cackling.

“You’re such an asshole,” Cas said through a smile.

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ asshole,” Dean smirked, ignoring the awkward wording.

Cas’ eyes went dark at that, as his grin turned predatory. He crawled across the couch in a way that was eerily panther-like and crawled onto Dean’s lap, straddling his hips. He immediately gripped at Dean’s right wrist over the bracelet and leaned in to kiss a line down Dean’s neck, and practically growled into the skin, “Mine,” before sucking a bruising kiss into the crook of his neck. Oh yeah, Dean was in for it that night, and he couldn’t be more pleased.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zazu's is a real place, in Charlottesville, VA, but feel free to envision whatever city you'd like as the setting for this...I haven't mentioned it on purpose. But yeah, I lived in Charlottesville for a few months eons ago and loved the vibe of the city (despite the wonky layout of the roads and highways, IMO), so I may have kind of used it as a mental backdrop for the feeling, though I'll admit that I can't make any claims about specific locations. Alright, I'll quit rambling, now :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...is a lot of porn. And some feelings, because, well...Destiel.

_Mine._

The word that Cas had never dared vocalize to a lover burst forth before he could stop it. Dean immediately stiffened beneath him and Cas could practically feel all of the blood drain out of his own face as he realized what he'd done. His lips faltered on Dean's neck, and for one agonizingly long second, he was certain that he was about to be pushed off of Dean's lap. But then Dean tipped his head back to allow Cas more room and he heard Dean breathe a satisfied little sigh through his nose.

As nice as it would be to ravish Dean right then and there on the couch, Cas wanted even more to drive Dean out of his mind, make him shake with the kind of need that only Cas could satisfy. It may have been selfish, but he couldn’t feel too badly about it, when he knew that Dean would also be enjoying himself. Cas took his time, working lips and teeth and tongue up one side of Dean's neck and down the other, grinning at the impatient twitch of Dean's hips beneath him when he nipped at an earlobe.

Dean turned his head slightly, a silent request for Cas' lips on his own. Cas kissed first one corner of Dean's mouth, then the other, before pressing a gentle closed-mouth kiss to his lips. He pulled away for a moment, fighting a grin when Dean's lips tried to follow, only to dip in again for a quick peck. Cas nearly cackled at the way Dean's eyebrows knit together.

"Goddammit, Cas! Kiss me already, you asshole!" Dean huffed.

Cas pulled back even further and studied Dean for a moment. The little outburst didn't bother him, but it did let on that Dean wasn't exactly in the sub frame of mind at the moment. But then he glanced down and saw that Dean's arms and hands hadn't budged from where Cas had placed them, even though he'd released his hold at least a minute ago. The mixed message gave him pause, as he tried to discern what Dean needed.

Apparently, he had been thinking about it for too long, because Dean started to look nervous. On a whim, Cas decided to see if he could get his answer in Dean's kiss. Bringing his hands up to frame Dean's face, Cas leaned in and was unsurprised when Dean's mouth opened automatically for him on a sigh. He slid his tongue in to twirl around Dean's and the man simply matched him movement for movement, neither demanding nor giving in. The fairly neutral response told him nothing, so Cas took control and deepened the kiss in likely the filthiest way he ever had.

Cas got his answer when a deep groan sounded in Dean's throat and he showed no sign of trying to take control of the kiss, seemingly content to let Cas have his way. Cas allowed himself a moment to marvel at this second language between them and felt a flash of pride at the privilege of being able to read Dean in such an intimate manner.

When the need for air became too great, Cas pulled away and greedily took in the flush of Dean's cheeks and the dazed look his eyes.

"Holy hell," Dean panted.

Quite frankly, Dean had kissed dozens of people, but no one had _ever_ kissed him like that, and especially not Cas. He was pretty sure that what he'd just experienced was the kind of thing that 'being kissed within an inch of your life' referred to, and he wished that Cas would bring his lips back for a second helping of that. Infuriatingly though, Cas slid off of his lap and held out a hand once he was standing.

"Time for a shower," Cas said simply.

Dean took his hand, now fully aware of his erection as it shifted within the confines of his pants as he stood. He mentally did a double take at himself for having been so distracted with a kiss that he hadn't even noticed his own cock standing at full attention. They both seemed to simultaneously glance at each other's pants and when their eyes met again, Cas smirked, and Dean let out an embarrassing giggle-type sound. The moment it escaped, Dean choked off the sound and spun on his heel and took off for the bathroom, Cas following close behind.

Once the door was closed behind them, Cas crowded in behind Dean and immediately reached around to start unbuckling the man's belt, hooking his chin over Dean's shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror, and Cas grinned softly. At least for a moment. But then something playful flashed in his eyes that reminded Dean of that moment before Cas had dipped him when they danced. He didn't have long to worry about it though, as Cas immediately lowered his mouth to bite the top of Dean's shoulder in an unexpectedly aggressive move. Dean yelped in surprise more than pain, then sighed in satisfaction as Cas laved at the mark before placing a kiss to it, keeping their eyes locked through it all in the mirror. The dark look that invaded Cas' eyes as he smirked was a hell of a lot sexier than it had any right to be, and Dean swallowed harshly.

One hand moved to grip at Dean's hip, while the other came up to rest against his stomach. Cas rubbed an affectionate thumb over the trail of hair beneath Dean's navel and placed a soft kiss to his neck.

"You wanna play?" Cas murmured into the skin.

"Yeah," Dean said, equally quiet.

Cas grinned with some odd mixture of affection, amusement, and lust as he reached down to unfasten the bracelet and lay it on the sink. Then he extracted himself from Dean's back, taking a couple of steps back. "Go start the shower."

And just like that, Cas had flipped the Dom switch.

Dean stepped the rest of the way out of his clothes and did as he was asked, not daring to look behind him. Cas- Castiel, he corrected himself- hadn't told him that he couldn't look, but somehow Dean felt that Castiel would appreciate his show of self-control. Once the water was a comfortable temperature, Dean started to get in, but was stopped by Castiel's hand on his wrist.

"Take care to be thorough. When you're done, go wait for me on the bed," Castiel ordered.

"Oh," Dean said, not quite masking his disappointment that this would be a solo shower.

Castiel gave him a frustrated look at that, that sent guilt curling unpleasantly in Dean's stomach. He'd told Castiel before that he trusted him to give him what he needed and then turned around and practically complained that he wasn't getting it soon enough, and that was no way to be good. Unable to meet Castiel's eye, Dean looked down.

He heard Castiel sigh before he felt the two fingertips tap beneath his chin. Reluctantly, Dean looked up.

"I know we've only done this once before, but you were so good for me, Dean. I'm very confident that you can do it again," Castiel said reassuringly.

Dean kind of hated that Castiel's praise meant so much to him, but he couldn't deny the warmth that washed over him every time it was offered. With a nod and a small grin, Dean started to turn to step into the tub.

"Oh, and another thing," Castiel added on. "You may touch yourself however you want while you're waiting for me, but do **not** come."

And with that, Castiel turned and exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Dean stepped under the water and immediately set to scrubbing, not wanting to waste a minute. After the long day of work, it felt good to get the grime of the day off of his skin, and if he were at home, he'd probably indulge in a much longer shower. The anticipation of what all Castiel might have in store for him had him practically buzzing though, so he cleaned up efficiently, scrubbing extra hard as he imagined where all Castiel might intend on putting his mouth. His dick twitched at the thought, and Dean was abruptly aware that he'd already started stroking himself without realizing it.

His pulled his hand away, shaking his head at himself. Castiel had said that touching himself would be fine once he was waiting, but the man had said nothing about shower time. Besides, what would be the point? The man had made it perfectly clear that while Dean was welcome to touch his own body, his orgasm was to be brought about by Castiel only. Frustratingly, the thought only managed to arouse Dean even more, but he refrained from letting his hands go anywhere near his dick again; fortunately, he'd already washed and rinsed everything and had no reason to go there.

Shutting the water off, Dean stepped out and grabbed for the towel. He dried off vigorously and replaced the bracelet before he exited the bathroom, peering around the apartment for Castiel. His eyes landed on the couch and frowned at what he saw; unlike the aroused mess that Dean was, Castiel was sitting fully clothed and calm, doing what appeared to be a crossword puzzle of all things. The man glanced up and grinned approvingly as he stood, taking in Dean's state. Instead of joining him though, Castiel just squeezed his bicep and smirked before strolling casually toward the bathroom.

Dean huffed his impatience, now that Castiel wasn't there to hear it and stomped over to the bed. He wasn't sure if he should lie down or kneel and wavered for a moment before finally crawling up on the bed and kneeling, grasping his left wrist in his right hand. There was no way he was going to touch himself and risk getting off too early when Cas finally joined him, so this position was for the best. Besides, Dean may have also kind of wanted to prove that he could be patient, especially after that little exchange in the bathroom.

Settling in, Dean carefully blanked his mind, letting his anticipation drop into a low static buzz as he willed himself not to think about Castiel. He was doing a good job of it too, until a minute later when the sound of a low moan came floating from behind the bathroom door. Dean's ears immediately perked up, and a few seconds later, it came again.

Apparently, Castiel had decided to start the party without him, and Dean frowned at the bathroom door. Was the man seriously going to jerk off in the shower when he had Dean right there waiting? Oh. So that's what that must have felt like for Cas the other morning. Goddammit.

A loud gasp that ended on a low groan interrupted his thoughts, and he huffed at himself as he felt his cock twitch in his lap when the sounds inevitably conjured up imagery of a wet, naked Castiel going to town on himself in the shower. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean tried his damnedest to think of anything else, but the sounds coming from the bathroom were making it nearly impossible. But then it got quiet, and Dean found himself straining his ears for some sort of indication of what Cas might be doing. The only thing he heard was the tell tale sound of a bottle being set back down and water hitting the bottom of the tub.

A good thirty seconds passed and Dean had just started to assume that maybe Cas had already gotten off when he heard a hiss, followed by a grunt. God, the way sound traveled in that damned studio, Dean might as well have been standing right there in the bathroom. After another several seconds of nothing, a gasp and a low, ragged moan sounded and Dean couldn't help but groan himself as his dick pulsed harshly at the noise. The fucker was going to kill him, making all those noises and it occurred to Dean that Castiel was doing it on purpose. Castiel was either the world's biggest tease, or was getting off on the thought that Dean might be getting off to his noises. The chances were fifty-fifty, and Dean didn't know what to do.

The decision was made for him though, when the water suddenly shut off, followed immediately by the clack of the shower curtain rings as Castiel opened the curtain. Dean let out a deep, relieved breath and squeezed tighter at the wrist in his hand as he waited for Castiel to come out. A minute later he heard the bathroom door open and close and Castiel's bare feet on the hardwood as he walked over to the bed, but Dean didn't dare turn around. He saw Castiel's legs appear by the side of the bed in his peripheral and barely stopped himself from looking over.

"You didn't touch yourself," Castiel said, surprise coloring his words.

"Nope," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Oh, Dean," Castiel murmured, bringing a hand up to card through Dean's hair. "That must have been very difficult. I'm impressed by your restraint."

Dean felt a blush rise up on his cheeks at the reverence in Castiel's voice and unconsciously ran a thumb over the leather of the bracelet where it was pressed into his hand.

Castiel didn't miss the motion and felt his chest swell with affection for the man kneeling on his bed, cock swollen between his legs in want, but saving his pleasure for Castiel. He honestly hadn't expected Dean to turn down the opportunity and felt his breath get caught in his throat for a moment.

"I didn't come in the shower. Wanted to save it for you, too," Castiel murmured, slipping his hand down to run down the length of Dean's spine. When he reached Dean's hands, he tugged gently and Dean let his hands drop to his sides. "That's better," he murmured.

Castiel's hand returned to his hair, but he didn't say anything for a moment, as he seemed to consider something.

"You know," he finally began, "it's the damnedest thing. I came out here thinking that I wanted to take you apart slowly. But now that I see you, I kind of want to just pound you into the mattress," he said, fingers tightening in the hair at the back of Dean's head. He tugged just enough to bring Dean's head up so that their eyes could meet and watched as Dean's eyes turned dark in the most alluring way.

Castiel didn't even try to hide the smirk that crept up on his lips. "I take it you like that idea?"

Dean let his eyes travel down to take in Castiel's fully erect cock and licked his lips pointedly. "Yes, Castiel. Very much." And if Castiel wasn't mistaken, he even batted his eyelashes for good measure.

Nodding, Castiel released his hold on Dean's hair and moved to the nightstand to get the lube. "I'm glad. Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about the other morning," he said, closing the drawer and making his way to the foot of the bed. "It took everything in me not to just fuck into you, you know."

Dean's breath stuttered, but he remained still, even as he felt the bed dip behind him.

"Elbows and knees," Castiel ordered.

The moment Dean complied, Castiel's hands were on him, kneading his cheeks. Dean fully expected to hear the click of the lube bottle and startled with a loud gasp when instead, he felt the hot, wet press of Castiel's tongue against his balls.

"Oh fuck!"

Castiel chuckled and dragged his tongue up slowly, applying deliberate pressure as he swiped it over Dean's hole. Dean shivered harshly and let out a throaty groan.

"Anyone ever done this for you?" Castiel asked, breathing hotly on the puckered skin.

"N-no," Dean croaked, shaking his head.

Castiel's blood burned hotter at the admission, that he would get to be the first one to give this to Dean. "I'm going to ruin you for wanting anyone else's mouth," he said, punctuating it with a swirl of his tongue.

Dean gasped and let his head fall to rest on his hands. Without further ado, Castiel pushed the tip of his tongue inside, pulling mewls and gasps from Dean as he worked him open. By the time he started to work in a finger in alongside his tongue, Dean's knuckles were white where he was grasping at the bedding and his hips were making little aborted movements while he tried not to rock back. A choked off, vaguely Castiel-shaped sound reached Castiel's ears and he pulled back for a moment with a vulgar slurping sound in the otherwise quiet of the apartment.

"Are you about to come?" He asked, his own voice huskier than expected.

Dean didn't answer immediately, so Castiel pushed the finger in all the way and crooked it, pleased with the loud groan he got in return. Dean took a deep breath and nodded.

"Use your voice, Dean," he chided, now massaging two fingertips over the hole.

"Ungh…yeah…yes," Dean managed.

The whine that escaped Dean's throat when Castiel withdrew his touch was almost pitiful. Castiel bent over and kissed soothingly up the back of Dean's thigh, murmuring into his skin.

"It's not time yet, Dean. Am I going to have to put a cockring on you?"

"Maybe," Dean said mournfully, clearly trying to regain some control.

"Oh?" Castiel asked, moving over to give the other thigh the same treatment. As his mouth got closer to Dean's ass, Dean's breaths sped up. "Would you prefer that, or would you rather I stop each time you get close?"

Dean's body tensed up and he made a loud, frustrated noise. "Are you going to let me come at some point? Because I already feel like my dick's going to explode."

Sitting up, Castiel swept a soothing hand up and down Dean's back. "Of course. You've been so good for me, Dean, but I need you to hold on a little longer. So. Cockring, or words?"

"Jesus, don't make me pick," Dean groaned, voice muffled by the bedding.

A short, unexpected smack on his left ass cheek startled a yelp out of Dean.

"No," Castiel replied, voice gathering a tone of authority that Dean had had yet to hear. "It's your choice, now make it," he said, rubbing the spot where his hand had landed.

Holy fuck, Dean was sure that he'd never been more turned on in his life, seeing this much more dominant side of Castiel. He weighed the pros and cons of each choice for a moment and came to a decision.

"Words," he husked. For whatever reason, this must have been a good decision because Castiel made a contented little humming noise behind him and placed a kiss to the spot he'd smacked.

"Okay. I'll try to stop what I'm doing in time, but if I'm not catching onto it, you have to tell me to stop," Castiel said.

"Okay," Dean replied, taking a shaky breath. "I think I'm ready now."

"Turn over," Castiel said with a tap to Dean's hip.

Once settled on his back, Dean looked up expectantly to Castiel while he slung a leg over Dean's thighs. The amount of trust and desire in those deep green eyes was almost overwhelming, and Castiel was reminded once again, how lucky he was that he'd earned that. Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and kissed the soft spot below Dean's ear, making his way down the man's neck until he got to the pulse point and paused.

"I'd like very much to mark you up," he mumbled into the skin, pleased when he felt Dean's pulse flutter beneath his lips. When Dean didn't verbally respond, Castiel looked up with a quirked brow.

"What?" Dean asked, confused. "Oh. Were you asking me?"

 _Damn_. Dean had been ready to just let him do as he pleased with the marking. A smile crept up on Castiel's face at the notion and once again he felt helpless against denying Dean affection and leaned up to press a kiss to Dean's forehead. "Yes, I was asking," he said, a small chuckle bubbling up.

Dean still looked a little confused, but answered nonetheless, tilting his chin up to give Castiel more access and closing his eyes. "Please," he whispered.

Amusement quickly fading into want, Castiel dipped down and sucked a harsh kiss to the pulse point, nipping lightly at it before licking gently. The vibration of Dean's voice tickled against Castiel's tongue as Dean moaned lowly. A hand came up to curl around Castiel' bicep, but he didn't feel inclined to tell Dean that he couldn't touch him and allowed it. Moving down lower, Castiel licked and sucked and nipped his way down Dean's chest, peppering it with little marks, noticing the way Dean gasps sounded more desperate with the more abrasive touches. Every time they'd been intimate, Castiel had made it point to show Dean comforting touches, but apparently Dean still needed the rougher ones on some level, and Castiel made a mental note to explore that.

Moving over, Castiel mouthed at one nipple, alternating sucks, flicks of his tongue, little nibbles, and puffs of cool air. Dean started panting and making little noises in his throat before Castiel had even moved on to the other nipple, and by the time he'd blown the first stream of air over the other one, Dean hissed a "Cas," completely unaware of his slip-up. "Cas you gotta stop."

Castiel pulled his body up to hover over Dean's and looked down between them, surprised at how much pre-come had pooled on Dean's belly.

"God," Castiel murmured, choosing to ignore Dean's mistake. "Look at you, practically leaking for me already."

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Not helping," he said, voice strained.

Chuckling darkly, Castiel scooted back a bit and sat up to give Dean a minute to collect himself, running his hands up and down Dean's sides. He knew that Dean responded to his voice, but knowing that it was enough that that alone could possibly tip him over the edge gave Castiel an idea for next time and he couldn't help but chuckle again, though it threatened to turn into a cackle if he didn’t get a hold of himself.

"You're plotting, aren't you?" Dean asked hoarsely. He'd thrown a hand over his eyes, apparently needing to drown Castiel out of his sight in order to calm down and if that wasn't an ego boost, Castiel didn't know what was.

"Yes, I am," Castiel admitted, not quite keeping the grin out of his voice.

Dean sighed and rubbed the hand down his face. After a few more seconds, he nodded more to himself than anything and gave a shaky, "go ahead."

"Are you sure you're quite calm enough? Because you only get one more pause after this," Castiel warned.

Dean's eyes popped open and looked up at Castiel pleadingly. "Then no. Gimme a few more seconds." He swallowed and added on, "I thought you were going to fuck me into the mattress."

"I thought I was too, but then I realized just how much I wanted my mouth all over you," Castiel shrugged. "Guess you could say I'm taking the scenic route. Well, I was. But here in a minute I'm going to spread you open and get you ready for my cock."

Dean's cock twitched and he groaned in frustration. "You gotta stop that shit, if you're trying to keep me from coming."

"As you wish, Buttercup," Castiel smirked, rubbing a thumb across Dean's ribs.

It got the reaction Castiel wanted, an unimpressed look crossing Dean's face before he closed his eyes again. After several deep breaths, Castiel felt Dean's body relax a bit.

"Okay," Dean nodded.

Castiel pulled his legs in to settle between Dean's and tapped the outside of his knee. "Knees up."

Dean complied, and Castiel surprised him for a second time, dipping right in to use his tongue again and earning a punched out wheeze for his effort. This time though, Castiel was merciless in his attentions, only letting up long enough to slip in a finger. Dean's body took it easily, and after a few pumps, Castiel risked another finger, not only as an act of mercy for getting Dean ready sooner, but for his own neglected cock that had been painfully hard for some time now. Dean hissed at the intrusion of the second finger and Castiel turned his head to pepper little kisses along Dean's inner thighs, before slowly starting to move his hand. When Dean relaxed a bit, Castiel dipped back down and slid his tongue back in while his fingers started to scissor, and Dean's hips bucked involuntarily.

"Fucking fuck, Castiel," Dean groaned loudly.

Encouraged, Castiel continued working Dean open with gentle efficiency, noting the small tremor that was starting in Dean's thighs. They both needed to be put out of their misery soon, so Castiel withdrew his fingers and tongue, shushing Dean's whimper as he reached for the lube and drizzled a healthy amount on his fingers, warming it up a bit.

"I promised I'd fuck you into the mattress, and I will, but I'm not going to hurt you doing it," Castiel said firmly.

He really hadn't worked the two fingers for as long as he would've liked and figured that Dean would appreciate the distraction from the third being added and leaned in to nuzzle Dean's cock with his nose as he slipped three fingers in. He had the full intention of taking Dean's cock into his mouth, but Dean's hand flew down to grasp tightly in his hair.

"Nonononono…I just can't with your mouth right now," he said, sounding utterly abashed at having to stop such a phenomenal experience as Castiel's mouth on his dick.

Castiel stopped his hand as well and peered up at Dean, equal parts sympathetic and pleased at how wrecked the man was by his touch. Truthfully, that alone had him needing to take a moment for himself too and closed his own eyes, ignoring the clenching around his fingers. He'd be damned if he'd pull that shit again, only getting part of the way in. It took a full minute of deep breaths before Castiel felt like he could handle it and opened his eyes again. Of course Dean was smirking at him when their eyes met. Castiel cocked an eyebrow at him, and the smug look died down into something sheepish.

Figuring they were both good to go, Castiel slowly started the motions of his hand back up, but it didn't take long before Dean was rocking down onto his fingers, seeking more. Castiel brushed gently over Dean's prostate and Dean keened loudly at the contact, rocking his hips down harshly. Castiel nipped at Dean's inner thigh in reprimand for being so demanding, but apparently that was the wrong thing to do because Dean bucked one more time in response, causing Cas' fingers to hit his prostate dead on.

Dean came suddenly, with a loud startled shout of Castiel's name before his mouth fell open and hung in a silent scream as his orgasm ripped through him, body nearly convulsing from the intensity. Castiel moaned and gripped tightly at the base of his own cock, nearly coming just from the sound of his name being shouted in such a way. He continued to work Dean through it though, and when the bulk of it seemed to be over, pulled his fingers out with as much gentleness as possible. Well shit. He definitely hadn't meant for that to happen, and Dean clearly hadn't expected it, either, if the look of surprise on his face when he came was anything to go by.

When Dean's legs flopped down on the bed, Castiel rubbed a palm up and down one of his thighs as he waited for Dean to catch his breath. Then he stood up to get a washcloth, but was stopped by a soft brushing of fingers against his hand.

"I'm sorry," Dean said hoarsely, eyes pleading for Castiel to see his sincerity. "Come back?"

"Oh Dean, don't apologize. You did _so_ well, and I'm _very_ proud of you," Castiel murmured. "I'm just going to get a washcloth and I'll be right back."

Dean shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows. "No. You promised," he said pointedly.

"I don't think that would be advisable," Castiel said slowly, though he really wanted to take Dean up on his offer more than the man could possibly know.

"Go get the washcloth, and by the time we're done getting me cleaned up I'll be ready to take you." Dean said confidently. Castiel's incredulous frown made something spark in Dean's temper and words came tumbling out, unplanned. "Castiel Novak, you'd better put that cock of yours inside me in the next ten minutes or so help me I will do it myself."

Castiel's mouth dropped open, and all he could do was gape at the other man's demand, all pretense of submission gone as he told Castiel exactly how it was. His cock leapt at the tone and words and Dean smirked as he noticed it. Shit, that had to be the fastest turn of role reversal in history, and Cas couldn't do anything but spin on his heel and take off for the bathroom.

By the time he got back, Dean had rummaged through the nightstand and found a simple blue plug and was toying with it, giving Cas a devious grin when their eyes met. He set it off to the side when Cas sat down next to him, and pinned fiery green eyes on Cas as he wiped the come off of Dean's stomach and chest. Once he was clean, Dean pulled the cloth from Cas' hand and tossed it on the floor as he rose up to kneel and knee-walked to the middle of the bed. Once positioned, he crossed his arms behind his back and looked over his shoulder at Castiel with a sultry grin and winked, rubbing the leather bracelet with his thumb, just as he had earlier.

Castiel knew that Dean was egging him on, but god help him, it fucking worked, and with a low growl, Castiel climbed up behind him on the bed. If Dean wanted to get a rise out of him, then fine. Wasting no time, Castiel lubed himself up and reached for Dean's wrists, holding them together in one hand and grasped a hip with the other as he rocked his erection against the cleft of Dean's ass.

"You sure you want me to fuck you right now?" he growled low in Dean's ear.

Dean turned his head slightly and grinned. "Yes, Castiel. I want you to fill me up and show me what you can really do."

Castiel bit down on his shoulder and laved at it, just as he had earlier, earning a squeaky groan from Dean. "Bend."

With a little maneuvering, Dean was mostly face down on the bed with his head turned to the side, ass in the air, and Castiel's hand still firmly gripping his wrists. Castiel traced around Dean's hole to make sure it was well-lubed and once satisfied, guided the head of his cock toward it. Dean grunted as it breached the first ring of muscle, and tensed for a moment. Castiel paused and rubbed a thumb over one of the wrists in his hand, and when Dean relaxed, pushed the rest of the way in in one long slow movement. They both moaned at the sensation, and Castiel needed the moment to collect himself as much as Dean needed it to adjust because Castiel was definitely bigger than three fingers.

"Fuck, you're tight," he said, voice strained. "How are you doing?"

"Gimme a minute," Dean replied.

Castiel nodded, even though he knew Dean couldn't see it and swept a hand up and down one of Dean's arms as they waited. A minute later, Dean shifted his hips back experimentally and moaned lowly. "Oooh yeah," he breathed.

Despite how riled up he was, Castiel still eased Dean into it with a slow pace, withdrawing most of the way before plunging all the way back in. When Dean's hips started to meet his own thrust for thrust, Castiel picked up the pace and moaned loudly when Dean rolled his hips in tandem with a particularly deep thrust.

"Holy fuck, Cas. Feel s-so good," Dean groaned, rolling that sinuous movement again.

"Goddamn, Dean. You have no idea… _mmph_ …how badly I've wanted to- _uhn_ \- to do this," Castiel said, pulling out almost completely before snapping his hips back in harshly.

Dean was already panting, and damned if he we wasn't fully hard again. "Yeah? Show me what you've been saving up, Cas."

And damned if Castiel put his hands on Dean's hips and started pounding in earnest, bringing Dean's hips back to meet his thrusts. He was so much stronger than Dean had realized, and with the right coaxing was definitely capable of more than gentle caresses and teasing touches. Cas was much more of an animal in the sack than Dean had expected, and knowing that he'd brought this out in the normally calm man had heat already pooling in his abdomen.

"C-Cas. Castiel. Not… _erng_ …not gonna last so long," Dean grunted.

With that, Castiel leaned over Dean and switched to deep, fast thrusts for a minute before his muscles started burning and instead pulled them both up to sit, bracing a forearm across Dean's chest.

"Lean out a bit, I've got you," Castiel rumbled.

Dean did as he was asked and let Castiel support some of his weight as the man drove his hips up impossibly deep, nailing his prostate.

"Ooooh my god! Cas…fucking fuck, that's…shit," Dean babbled, so so close but not quite there; he needed Castiel to get off first.

Castiel's thighs were shaking from the effort, but he was too far gone to stop now. He knew Dean was close too, because there was no way he wasn't hitting the man's prostate with damn near every thrust. Dean reached down then, to grasp the hand that was holding on to his stomach and moved it to fist around his cock before lifting up and impaling himself harshly on Castiel's cock and grinding down.

"Come on baby," Dean panted, grinding his hips in little circles. "Just let it go, Cas."

That was all it took and with one more thrust, Cas was coming hard with a moan that sounded like it had been ripped out, painting Dean's insides. The sensation of that wet heat and the little spasms wracking Cas' body sent Dean over the edge as well, into his second orgasm of the night. There wasn't much to show for it, but the orgasm was nearly as intense as the last one, and Dean was glad for Cas' arm around him, or he would've face planted into the covers.

It only took a moment before they were both collapsing onto the bed, breathing harshly, spots swimming in each of their vision. Cas squirmed a bit and pulled the plug out from beneath his shoulder blades, having totally forgotten about it even being in the bed. He turned his head to look at Dean questioningly, and Dean nodded before making an attempt to bring his legs up.

He failed.

Cas chuckled breathily and tapped Dean on the hip, prompting him to roll over onto his stomach. Dean barely managed to spread his legs a little bit, but it was enough, and Cas gently inserted the plug. Instead of rolling back though, Cas just draped himself along Dean's side and threw a leg over him, careful not to jostle his ass too much.

After several minutes of this, Cas was close to dozing off when Dean's rough voice broke the silence.

"You grow extra limbs or something? You feel like an octopus," he mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes.

Cas started to pull away, but Dean followed the movement. "Uh uh. Not complaining. Just talking," he said sleepily.

Taking a moment to determine the sincerity of Dean's words, Cas finally let himself settle again, this time nuzzling into Dean's shoulder and bringing a hand up to card through the sweaty hair at the back of Dean's head. Cas couldn't help but study Dean's face, amazed at the utter contentment and relaxation he saw there. A sleeping Dean had been beautiful, but sex-blissed Dean was so much more than that.

"You were right," Dean mumbled, bringing a lazy hand up to rub at his eye.

"About what?" Cas winced at how rough both their voices sounded.

"You ruined me," Dean said, cracking an eye at Cas.

A beautiful little almost-bashful smile spread across Cas' face, where Dean had been expecting a smirk, and Dean was momentarily taken-aback at the fact that Cas was actually preening under Dean's approval. Then it hit him just how far his comment had fallen from the flirtation he'd meant it to be and that he'd actually meant it, and rolled his head to bury his face in the pillow with a frustrated sigh.

Cas knew the moment Dean realized what he'd said and started to retreat within himself. Taking it as his cue to give the other man space, Cas rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, putting his full mental effort into not jumping to any conclusions just yet and thinking of anything neutral he could. He felt Dean shift beside him, but didn’t move his own body, electing to let Dean choose what happened next. When a gentle fingertip smoothed along his brow line, Castiel's eyes flew open in confusion at the unexpectedly tender gesture. When his eyes met Dean's, he was surprised to see sadness in them. Dean traced hesitant fingers down the lines of Castiel's cheekbones and over his lips, and Cas could only lie there frozen as he allowed Dean to explore.

"This is why I suck, Cas," Dean finally said, sighing. "I've made you sad when you should be basking," Dean said, voice tight. "I'm sorry, baby."

A little choked off noise escaped Cas' throat before he could stop it and he cleared his throat to try and cover it, but knew it was pointless and closed his eyes.

"Please don't call me that unless you mean it," Castiel whispered, face heating at the rejection that was sure to come. He didn't need to have his eyes open to know that Dean's were tracking over his face, and he'd never felt so naked.

"You uh…you want that?" Dean asked. "I mean," he tried to clarify but Cas cut him off.

"What? You mean you? Do I want _you_?" Cas asked, irritation at Dean's seeming surprise making his natural boldness rear its head.

Dean nodded and glanced away. Castiel brought a hand up to his own face a bit harder than he meant to and ended up slapping himself before he rubbed his hand down in a long-suffering gesture.

"Dean, you may not have noticed, but I've told you in just about every way I know how that I want you, you asshat," Cas said tiredly.

"What?" Dean asked, clearly surprised by this information. "I thought you meant you _wanted_ me," he gestured to his body as a whole, "not _me_ ," he said, pointing somewhere vaguely between his chest and his head.

Castiel groaned his frustration at the both of them and rolled to his side to face the other man. He should've known that Dean would misinterpret this way, and chided himself for the oversight.

"Well obviously I appreciate our…adventures. But I appreciate you," Cas said, pressing a hand to Dean's sternum, "too. I told you from the beginning that I'd be open to dating you," he huffed, rolling his eyes.

Dean frowned and wrapped his fingers around Cas' wrist but didn't remove his hand. "Well excuse me for not grasping that 'Yeah, whatever, I guess I'd date you' was Cas-speak for 'I _want_ to date you.'

Cas really didn't have a good response to that and chose to keep quiet, glancing away. Dean sighed heavily and rubbed a thumb over the delicate bones on the top of Cas' hand. Cas kind of hated how well that worked on calming him down a bit.

"Well, you know my thoughts on this subject, but you haven't shared your own," Cas ventured.

Dean gave a little huff and reached over, placing a firm hand between Cas' shoulder blades. "Will you just come here and kiss me?"

Cas gave him a skeptical look, but allowed Dean to pull him in and kiss him. It was at first just an easy, closed-mouth pressing of lips; what Cas would consider a smooch. But every time they pulled apart, the kiss lasted a little longer when they returned to it, mouths opening just a little wider. Cas didn't hesitate to meet Dean halfway when he felt the soft swipe of Dean's tongue along his bottom lip. This time though, it wasn't about heat and desire, but a gentle exploration and almost a sense of curiosity. If Cas didn't know the truth of it, he would've sworn it was almost like what a first kiss between people is supposed to be like. It was surprisingly pleasant, the hesitant slides and low-simmer of affection behind their movements. The kiss seemed to almost just carry itself along, and probably would've kept going if they hadn't needed to break for air.

Dean threaded his fingers in Cas' hair at his nape and rested their foreheads together. After a few seconds, he felt Cas give a tiny nod and Dean breathed a little sigh of relief through his nose that he'd been understood. Thank whatever god may have been responsible for giving them that option when they couldn't seem to find the words.

"Okay, _baby_?" Dean whispered.

Cas' arms tightened around his ribs, where they'd wound around Dean at some point during the kissing. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

They both had somewhat shy grins when they pulled apart, but Dean's fell first.

"You know I'm not really good at this stuff though, right? Just want you to be warned," Dean murmured.

"Well, then it's a good thing I make a kickass boyfriend," Cas smirked playfully. "I'll just have be awesome enough for the both of us."

That startled a laugh out of Dean, and Cas' grin grew genuine.

"Now that we've had our Lifetime moment, can we please go get something to drink? I'm dying here," Cas whined.

"Ugh, yes," Dean grimaced, rubbing a hand over his own throat. "Okay, new rule: no sexy times without a glass of water nearby." Dean paused briefly before he spoke again. "Mr. Novak. Do you concur?" he asked mock-seriously.

Cas' lips twitched in amusement. "What do you mean do I concur? There's a thirst situation going on here, you said it yourself."

Dean chuckled as he moved to sit up. "Uh huh. So…do you concur?"

Cas rolled his eyes and shoved at Dean's shoulder. "Yes, I concur," he grinned. "Fuckin' dork," he muttered to himself.

"Speak for yourself, Cas. You're the one that answered me back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive my Catch Me If You Can moment, I'm a dork.


	10. Chapter 10

Truthfully, Dean felt a little awkward upon waking the next morning.

Dean woke up to the sight of Cas facing away from him and twitching in his sleep as goosebumps prickled his entire back, obviously chilled where he'd kicked out of his half of the bedding. Re-settling the covers, Dean scooted over to spoon up behind Cas and warm him back up and nearly hissed as the man's cold skin came in contact with his own sleep-warm belly. He pulled himself in tight to the entire length of Cas' body and stroked his thumb absently across Cas' sternum, where Dean had brought one hand to rest over the man's heart. When Cas unconsciously squirmed into Dean's heat and let out a loud sigh through his nose, a small grin quirked at Dean's mouth because his boyfriend was kind of adorable.

With that single word, Dean's brain activity faltered for a moment like a glitch on a DVD. Holy crap, Dean was in a relationship. He felt kind of ridiculous for only now seeming to grasp it, but not enough to talk himself out of freaking out a little bit. The man he was waking up to and wrapped around? That wasn’t just Castiel Novak, Sarah's artist friend that was good in the sack; that was _Cas,_ Dean's _romantic_ interest and now, for _real_ exclusive partner. There would be dates and random phone calls and waking up together and family gatherings together and…oh god. Dean had fucked around with men, but he'd never dated one, and this was all new territory. Plus, you know, commitment and stuff…things that Dean generally didn't do anymore.

It took every ounce of willpower for Dean to stay where he was and not leap out of the bed and pace the floor because Cas still wasn't completely warmed up yet, and the man definitely didn't need to get the wrong message by being abandoned to the bed while Dean went neurotic for a minute. The sudden rumble of Cas' voice against his chest startled Dean, when the man spoke; Dean could've sworn the man was asleep.

"You're freaking out, aren't you?" Cas mumbled, voice thick from sleep.

Dean tensed and cleared his throat, but didn't move. Before he could answer, Cas rolled over onto his back and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms for a moment, sighing when he was done.

"Can we at least get some coffee going first? I'm not really good at these things until I've been awake for a minute," Cas said. Then he stretched, arching his back with a quiet grunt when it pushed his morning erection into the covers.

Dean's eyes couldn't help but wander downward and he considered putting that erection to use because for one: Dean was pretty much always horny for Cas, and two: sex is always a good distraction.

"I know what you're thinking, and it's not going to work, so leave it," Cas said, cracking his eyes open now. His hair was absolutely wild, and one cheek was creased from the pillowcase, and Dean inexplicably calmed a little as he took in the sight.

"I don't see an 'out of order' sign anywhere," Dean smirked, pointing at the bulge in the blanket.

Cas scrunched his eyebrows. "Too early for sass," he grumbled. But then he let out a breath and leveled somewhat clearer eyes on Dean. "Sorry. I'm not always good with mornings."

Seeing Cas grumpy and creased and imperfect seemed to settle Dean a bit because this was reality; starting his day with Cas wasn't going to be all sunshine and birds at the window and the smell of breakfast food magically floating in the air. This most basic part of being a couple was going to be incredibly normal, and the thought was comforting.

"It's fine, Cas. My body's just used to getting up early for work. Go back to sleep," Dean said, ruffling Cas' hair as he sat up.

Cas hummed at the touch and started to close his eyes, but seemed to think better of it and opened them back up before shifting to sit up. "No, I'm up," he said, scratching at his ribs and letting out a yawn. "If nothing else it's cold as shit in here. Guess there was a cold snap in the night."

Dean watched as Cas swung his feet around to sit on the edge of the bed, but the man didn't seem inclined to move for a minute, so Dean went ahead and got up to adjust the thermostat and then headed to the bathroom to take care of his morning business. When he exited, Cas was exactly where he'd left him, but had pulled the blankets around himself like a cape as he waited for the cold air to get pushed out of the vents and start heating up. Dean grinned at the way Cas was still blinking blearily, and started to hunt down his clothes from the day before. Remembering that he'd come over in his work clothes, Dean frowned because they probably didn't smell too great and he considered just toughing it out in his boxers until it warmed up.

But then he remembered: he was at his _boyfriend's_ apartment. Maybe Cas wouldn't mind too much if Dean borrowed something to lounge around in until he was ready to leave. Cas probably wouldn't have ever minded beforehand, but it still felt weird to think of going through Cas' things and helping himself, even if he did have a sort of unspoken permission. Dean hesitantly walked over to the dresser and glanced over to see Cas already looking at him curiously. He knew it was stupid, but he felt like a kid getting caught doing something they shouldn't, even though Cas didn't seem to be reacting negatively.

"Mind if I," Dean asked, gesturing at the dresser.

Cas grinned fondly at him and shook his head. "No, go ahead. You're always welcome to anything in my home, Dean. The only things I ask that you don't touch without me there are my journals and my art supplies and tools."

It wasn't an unusual sentiment to share with a lover, but it still made a blush rise up on Dean's cheeks that Cas trusted him with the contents of his home. Of course Dean felt the same way, that he'd trust Cas in his own home, but still.

Digging through a couple of drawers, Dean finally found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked like it would fit and started pulling them on, thinking about the fact that Cas had never even been to Dean's house. In fact, he was pretty sure that Cas didn't even know where he lived. It struck Dean then, that there was still a lot that they didn't know about each other, and unfairly, it was Cas that seemed to be more out of the loop than Dean. As he dressed, Dean wondered why in the hell Cas would agree to date him when he'd given the man practically nothing to go on except for basic information. But then again, Dean didn't even know if Cas knew how to drive, or where he was from, or even how he'd met Sarah. There was so incredibly much they still had to learn about each other, and the realization made Dean's stomach flop because there was every possibility that Cas wouldn't be interested once he learned more about Dean.

He heard Cas get up and shuffle to the bathroom behind him, and realizing he was now dressed and just staring at the dresser in front of him, Dean shook his head and went to the kitchen. He busied himself with making coffee and was hunting down a couple of mugs when he heard Cas coming up behind him. It felt good when Cas' arms wrapped around him, and he pressed a sweet kiss the side of Dean's neck before pulling away to stand next to him; Cas had been affectionate from the beginning, but that little gesture of intimacy that held no request of sex just felt so much warmer.

"You seem a bit calmer now," Cas remarked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Yeah, a little," Dean nodded.

Cas nodded too, but didn't say anything else, clearly giving Dean the opportunity to either elaborate or change the subject. Dean appreciated it.

"I've never had a boyfriend before," Dean blurted.

Cas turned to fully face Dean at that, looking mildly surprised. "Oh. Is that…are you not…out?"

Dean realized immediately that Cas had read it all wrong and rushed to assure him.

"No, I'm out," Dean said, noting the relief that flooded Cas' face. "I mean, I've just never been in a relationship with a dude. Been on dates and fucked around, but never anything more than that," he admitted, feeling nervous.

Cas regarded him carefully for a moment before he spoke. "So you're concerned about how different it could be from being with a woman?" he asked slowly.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, regretting bringing it up, even though he knew that Cas needed to know if they were going to do this. "I guess that's part of it. I mean, the girls I've dated all liked it when I'd open doors and put my arm around them in public and ran bubble baths for them and shit, but how are we gonna do this? How do two dudes do all that…stuff?"

"I like all those things too, though you're safe on the bubble bath front, since I don't have a tub," Cas smirked. "I think you're overthinking it. Just treat me the way you'd treat anyone you care about and I'll do the same for you," he shrugged. "You just customize it to the individual, based on what you know they like and don't like."

"That's another thing, Cas. We don’t really know anything about each other. How am I supposed to be any good at this when I don't know how to make you happy?" Dean asked with a small frown.

Cas chuckled lightly and took Dean's hand, lacing their fingers together and then bringing their hands up to kiss Dean's knuckles. "That's kind of the point of dating, Dean. To spend time with someone and get to know them. It's not like there's a time restriction on learning each other."

Dean seemed to relax a little, but still looked a bit incredulous. Cas knew that Dean would be sort of skittish once it hit him that he was in a relationship, so Cas had expected a conversation of this sort since before they even went to bed the night before.

"How about this. Why don't we play Dean and Cas trivia? We'll take turns asking each other whatever we want to know about the other, and if one of us isn't comfortable answering a particular question just yet, we can just say so," Cas offered.

Dean grinned lightly at the suggestion because it was beautiful in its simplicity. Learn a few things now to start them off, and then they could just kind of learn as they went from here on out.

"Okay. You go first," Dean said, noting that the coffee was done and moving to pour a couple of cups.

Cas hummed thoughtfully as he moved to the fridge to pull out creamer. Dean scooted out of the way, assuming that Cas would put sugar in his coffee, having noticed the sugar bowl sitting next to the coffee maker earlier. He watched the way Cas seemed to have it all down to practiced motions in the way he fixed his coffee and Dean made a mental note to remember it so he could fix Cas' coffee for him if he needed to sometime.

After a quick taste test with the sugar spoon, Cas seemed satisfied with his drink and took a careful sip from the cup. "Okay. What's the story with your tattoos? No offense, but I haven't been able to find any particular theme with the designs."

Dean grinned at that as he held his arms out in front of him, looking at the artwork.

"That's because there isn't a theme. I have a design I want, and just have it added on next to the other ones. This was the first one," Dean said, pointing to an almost unnoticeable picture of a rifle that ran the entire length of the inside of his right forearm; unnoticeable because it had been surrounded by other designs and blended in. "Winchester rifle. I know it's kind of an obvious thing to do, but I was sixteen and thought it'd make me look badass. I was kind of um…okay, I'm going to say this once and then we aren't talking about it again. But I got picked on a lot because I looked kind of…well, I got called 'pretty' a lot, when I was a kid."

Cas couldn't help but reach out and run a finger along the barrel of the design. "How did you even get that? You weren't old enough," he mused, carefully glossing over Dean's confession. He could easily picture a younger Dean, before he'd been sharpened by adulthood and hard work being pretty, between those large eyes and sinful lips. Cas could only imagine some of the lewd comments it must've gotten him and only barely refrained from scowling at the thought of Dean being spoken to in such a manner.

"Fake I.D.," Dean shrugged. "Got grounded for two months because of it, too. Had to wear long sleeves to school for the rest of high school because tattoos weren't allowed. Dad said it served me right, because we apparently aren't even related to _those_ Winchesters and that I was a dumbass."

Dean rolled his eyes at himself, but moved on. "This here is the date that I officially finished reading all of Vonnegut's works," he said, pointing to a banner with a date inscribed on it that wrapped around a simple design of the outline of a cat, on his other arm. "And the hammer happened the day I decided to start my own business, so I could look at it and remember what I was working toward. I added the nails the day I opened for business."

Cas listened with interest, glad to absorb the story behind each bit of art. There was a little stack of books that Dean had gotten for when Sam graduated with his law degree last year, two plain blue bands encircling top of his left forearm in memory of his parents, and an airplane for when he faced his fear and survived a flight he'd desperately not wanted to take. Dean liked to look at it when he needed to gather courage sometimes. While there may not have been an obvious artistic theme between it all, the designs had all been incorporated in a way that didn't look broken up and more closely resembled a collage. Cas grinned as he realized that that's really what it was: a collage of all the important milestones in Dean's life.

There was one little design left though, that Cas really couldn't begin to parse the meaning of, and Dean seemed to be skipping around it, which only served to heighten Cas' curiosity.

"So what about the Christmas tree?" Cas asked quietly, taking a nonchalant sip of coffee right after.

Dean pulled his lips into a thin line and frowned as he absently thumbed over the design. He knew that Cas would understand if he said he wasn't ready to answer that one, but Dean also knew that if Cas really wanted to get to know him, that this story would probably explain a lot. Glancing at the airplane, Dean sighed. Cas would find out sooner or later anyway, so he might as well get it over with now, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Let's go sit down, because this'll take a minute," Dean said, grabbing up his cup. Once they'd settled on the couch, Cas turned to face Dean, bringing one leg up to rest on the seat and throwing an arm over the back of the couch so as to show his undivided attention.

"I don't remember what all I've told you about how I grew up, but I guess you're about to learn. Anyway, my dad was a good guy, and he did his best to take care of his family, but he was a Marine before he was a father. Literally and figuratively. We ate our meals at specific times, me and Sammy's beds were inspected each morning after they were made, and whatever he said was household law, no questions. And nothing to do with being a marine, he was just so goddamned picky, and nothing was ever good enough no matter what I did. I'm sure you get the gist. Mom was the only one that ever got away with arguing with him and she didn't hold back," Dean said with a wistful smile.

"Being a kid I didn't really know better and that it wasn't normal until I got older and realized that my friends' parents didn't live that way. And by the time I got to college-"

Cas' eyes widened and he laid a hand to Dean's shoulder to interrupt. "Wait, you went to college? I thought you started saving for your business right after high school."

Oh yeah, whoops.

"Yeah, I was going for engineering, but hadn't decided which field yet. I was leaning toward mechanical, but we'll get there in a minute," Dean replied. Cas nodded in encouragement for Dean to keep going.

"So by the time I got to college, I was just fed up with having to do every damned thing Dad's way because by then I knew that most kids had at least some freedom. But being a good little soldier and well, still being a kid, I didn't really have the balls just yet to do anything too crazy. Plus, I couldn't really, because he straight out told me that if I didn't show him good grades each semester, he'd yank back my funding for school and he meant it, too. So I kept my nose clean and my grades up, figuring I just had to make it four more years, you know?" Dean said with a little shrug.

"I just rebelled in little ways that Dad wouldn't know about. You know, refusing to make my bed, eating at two in the morning if I felt like it, sleeping as late as I wanted on weekends, little bullshit like that. I know it probably sounds really stupid, but it was the kind of stuff I'd never been allowed to do before, so having a dorm room to myself was like a religious experience."

Cas shook his head and grabbed Dean's hand. "No, not stupid at all, Dean," he said earnestly.

"Thanks," Dean said quietly. "By the time Thanksgiving rolled around my second year, I'd gotten used to doing things my own way and just kind of pretending to give a rat's ass about Dad's rules whenever I went home to visit. When my parents came to the school to pick me up for Thanksgiving break, they came into my dorm room to help me carry my stuff out and I had this dinky little fake Christmas tree sitting next to my desk. I'd just gotten it the day before, and hadn't even decorated it yet. Dad saw it and laid into me for disrespecting the Winchester Family Traditions, because we always had to put the tree up at home on December eleventh, and not a day before. And I lost my shit, Cas. I was just so fucking pissed that he had the nerve to come into my territory and try to run my life when it didn't even affect him, and told him he could shove the tree up his ass."

Cas wanted to smile in approval of Dean's show of courage and independence, but held back because he sensed that the story wasn't over and might not maintain that sense of victory.

"How did they react?" Cas asked carefully.

Dean's lips smiled, but his eyes were full of bitterness and the sight nearly made Cas shudder.

"He backhanded me, and then Mom got between us and yelled at him that if he ever laid a hand on me again, she'd kill him. And she meant it, man. Dad left us at the dorm with the car, and I still don't know how he got home. But me and mom loaded up my shit and went home, and Dad stayed at my Uncle Bobby's for a few days. He came home on Thanksgiving day, and it was the most god-awful awkward meal I've ever suffered through. Sam told me later that he'd heard Mom and Dad fighting about him treating us like soldiers instead of children and that she wasn't going to tolerate it anymore and that Dad had to go to counseling if he wanted to have a marriage anymore. They went to the sessions, and it really did seem to be helping. All of us were getting along better anyway, and Mom said that Dad seemed to be more like the man she married. So I got the tree on my birthday, to remind me that anyone can change, myself included," he said, gesturing at the design on his arm.

Dean paused to take a sip of his coffee and made a face at the fact it had gone lukewarm, but powered through it and took another. As much as Dean had edited the story, it had still gone on long enough, and he was ready to just get the rest of it over with ASAP.

"A couple weeks after my birthday- which is in January by the way- they were on their way to dinner and were T-boned by a semi. Mom died on impact, and Dad died a couple days later in the hospital. I dropped out of college so I could use my college fund to help take care of Sammy and got a job so I could get custody of him. Found out later that the only reason I was given custody was because housing wasn't an issue, and that my GPA convinced them that I was responsible enough to handle it. So I guess it still paid off in the end, keeping my grades up, since it seemed to be what kept Sammy out of the system. But yeah…my parents had an accountant friend that helped me figure out how to deal with the money and make sure that there was plenty for Sam to go to school on, and whatever we didn't use to live on was put in a high yield account. And that's what I used to start my business."

Cas had to take a minute to process everything as pieces of the Dean Winchester puzzle slid into place. There was certainly much more to Dean's story, but what he'd told Cas was significant in grasping the man in front of him. In fact, it was almost shocking, how much Dean had told him, and Cas realized then how much courage it must've taken Dean to reveal such personal details. After all, up until now, Dean had been fairly tight-lipped about his past. And the way Dean had powered through talking about his parents' deaths as if it were nothing told Cas everything he needed to know about how deeply it still hurt Dean all these years later.

"Thank you for telling me that, Dean," Cas said, squeezing Dean's hand. "It means a lot to me that you'd trust me with that."

Dean looked away and shrugged, even though he squeezed Cas' hand back. At this point he was just glad that Cas didn't seem be trying to comfort him or anything, because he hadn't shared any of that to garner sympathy. If he were honest with himself, it really just felt good that Cas wanted to know any of that at all, even if it was the kind of touchy stuff that Dean normally didn't share.

"So. My turn," Dean said with a grin, and Cas reflected it back.

"Go for it," Cas nodded.

"Alright. Let's make this a lightning round of quick questions. Do you know how to drive?"

"Yes, but my car is in storage. Ever been in a fist fight?" Cas asked.

"Yeah, a few," Dean replied. "You?"

"Only twice. Once with Gabriel, and another with an angry Frenchman that thought I was trying to steal his car. I wasn't, by the way. I just accidentally got in the wrong car." Predictably, Dean laughed, and Cas waited for him to calm down before asking his own question. "Are you allergic to anything?"

"As far as I know, just cats. Do you like the outdoors?" Dean asked.

"Sort of. I like the beach and grassy areas, but I don't care for the woods because I like to be able to see everything around me. Let's see," Cas paused, tapping his chin with an index finger. "Do you believe in the existence of aliens?"

"I guess so. There's a zillion galaxies out there, so it seems statistically unlikely that we're the only planet with intelligent life." At Cas' nod of approval, Dean grinned. "If you could be an Avenger, which one would you be?"

Cas snorted at the dorky question, but pondered it nonetheless. "Black Widow. She gets shit done and doesn't need powers to do it. Would you rather go without pie or meat for the rest of your life?"

Dean looked genuinely affronted at the question. "That's low, Cas. But I guess…shit. I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but I think I'd have to say pie. I don't think I could live without meat, and there are other desserts that are close enough to pie, I guess I could make do."

"Wow. Did not expect that," Cas chuckled.

Dean waggled his eyebrows charmingly and was about to ask his next question when his phone began to ring with Lisa's ringtone. Dean hopped off the couch and got to his phone just in time before it could go to voicemail.

"Hey, what's up?" Dean said in a rush.

Cas went to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee and rifle through the cabinets for something to eat. He wasn't really hungry yet, but wanted to at least give the illusion of not listening to Dean's call; frankly, it was hard not to hear everything in his studio, and Dean wasn't exactly quiet. It didn't seem to matter though, because Dean came to join him and refill his own mug as he talked.

"No, I don't have any plans. Why? You doin' his birthday early?...Gotcha…Alright, I'll be there. Need me to bring anything?"

As Dean listened to whoever was on the other end of the line, his face went from neutral to uncomfortable in two seconds flat. "What?...Oh my god. But we weren't even a thing…You know what I mean…" Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Okay, hang on…hey, you shush," he said, before holding the phone to his chest and looking at Cas pleadingly.

"Ben's birthday's coming up and his party's next Saturday and he was wondering if I was gonna bring you with," Dean said, a blush rising up on his cheeks.

When Cas realized what was going on, he couldn't help but chuckle. "That's entirely up to you. I don’t mind to go, but I understand if you have reservations about us going together."

Dean grinned softly and pulled the phone back up to his ear. "Yeah, we'll be there…sounds good…alright, and call me if you think of anything you need me to set up or bring…not a problem. Later."

And with that, Dean hung up and put his phone back in his pocket, still blushing a bit.

"Apparently, Ben thought we were already together the day I picked him up at school," Dean said. "I didn't think the kid even knew I liked dudes."

"Children are very perceptive, and you can't underestimate them," Cas shrugged. "I think he likes me well enough, but I can't help but wonder if this is a test."

"Oh, it's definitely a test. Ben is sharp, and he'll be watching us like a hawk to see if he likes us together. I've seen him straight up tell Lisa she wasn't allowed to date a couple of guys," Dean said with a small smile. "Kid's got a good head on him though, so don't worry about it."

Dean could see that Cas really did want Ben to approve of them, and it made him feel all fuzzy that Cas understood and accepted how important Ben was to him. Without really thinking about it, Dean leaned in for a kiss, smiling into it when he heard Cas' mug sit down on the countertop so he could pull Dean in closer. This kiss was just getting good and starting to rev Dean up when they were interrupted by the phone. Again. This time it was Cas' phone, though. Cas pulled away and sighed, thumping his head on Dean's shoulder with a groan. Whoever it was hung up after the third ring and Cas lifted his head to glance at Dean's lips, as if wondering if it was safe to go back to what they were doing. But then the phone started ringing again, and Cas groaned as he turned to grab it from its perch in the little bowl by the door.

"Hey Sarah," Cas said, looking at Dean meaningfully.

"No, I'm still drinking my coffee…no, I'm not busy tomorrow…oh, well as long as Sam doesn't mind…" Cas motioned urgently for Dean, so he strode over quickly to Cas, who tilted the phone away from his ear a little so Dean could hear as he leaned in.

 _"…was his idea. Just figured you could use a home-cooked meal that you didn't have to cook yourself, and I have some business things to do discuss with you,"_ Sarah said. _"Also, Dean will probably be here, if that's okay."_

"Damn straight I'll be there," Dean said into the phone, relishing the surprised little 'oh' that Sarah gave on the other end of the line. "And I know what you're trying to play there, sister. Not as clever as you think."

Cas looked at Dean and mouthed out 'should we tell her?'. Dean got a mischievous glint in his eye and instead of answering, moved in to nibble at Cas' unoccupied ear.

_"So I guess I'm busted then…"_

Cas swatted at him, but Dean only chuckled and sucked the lobe into his mouth. Cas gasped and didn't quite manage to hold back a little grunt when Dean's hand found its way to his crotch and started palming at it.

 _"Oh god, I totally did interrupt!_ _Ugh, you should've told me, dude!_ "

Just for good measure, Dean feigned a wanton moan and laughed when Sarah cursed and abruptly hung up. Cas tried to give Dean a look of disapproval, but it was hard when the man's face was so lit up and full of amusement.

"What? You were the one that said we should make 'inappropriate noises' or whatever, the next time they called and interrupted us without texting first," Dean said cheekily.

"I didn't mean that you should try to get me to make actual noises," Cas said with a tilt of his head and a smirk lifting his lips. "But good job on the fake moan…that was startlingly convincing."

Dean smirked and palmed at Cas' dick again enjoying the sensation of feeling it starting to fill. "Oh, I'd never fake with you, baby. Wouldn't need to," he said, leaning in to kiss at Cas' neck and continuing the motions of his hand.

Cas pushed his hips into Dean's touch and hummed as he felt teeth graze over his pulse point. "Flattery will get you everywhere, but only if you intend on finishing what you've started."

Dean chuckled into the crook of Cas' neck before pulling away to grab Cas' phone out of his hand and putting it on silent. He then repeated the action on his own phone, and Cas quirked a wicked eyebrow at him.

"Oh, I fully intend," Dean winked.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr ](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com) , if you're interested. I tag my work progress under [surlycat](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com/tagged/surlycat). Thanks for reading!
> 
> 8Tracks list [here](http://8tracks.com/surlycat/sensory-perception).


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